Say You're Mine

by Alexis Winter

  My RBF comes in handy on nights like tonight. Yeah, douchebag might have not got the hint and tried to come and talk to me, but since he left, I’ve been left alone, content to enjoy my burger and beer after a long week of work.

  Being a detective in the Chicago Police Department isn’t for the weak. Sometimes I have to pinch myself that at 32 years old, I’ve already made detective in such a high-profile city and in a department that sees plenty of crime on a daily basis. I’ve worked my ass off since my first day of college to get to where I am today. I have a solid arrest record, I do things the right way and my colleagues know I mean business.

  Apparently, the RBF carries over into the office as well.

  I signal for Rick to grab me another beer as a voice startles me from the barstool next to mine.

  “Put hers on my tab and I’ll take a Crown and Coke.”

  I snap my head to see who the voice is coming from when I realize that it is friendly fire.

  “Whoa, easy there girl. Anyone sitting here?” Ben signals to the empty barstool next to me, taking a seat when I nod for him to.

  “Ben Jameson, what brings you here tonight?” I say, trying my best to leave my resting bitch face aside. “Are Tori and Kalum here?”

  “Nope. Just me. I needed a beer after... whatever the hell it was I just sat through.”

  “Let me guess, bad date?”

  He laughs. “A Tori set up at its finest.”

  I’ve known Ben for a few years, and every time we get together with our friends, I have to try not to smile at him like a crushing schoolgirl. Definitely the opposite of my resting bitch face.

  Growing up on the Southside of Chicago, preppy boys were definitely not something I grew accustomed to. Most guys in my neighborhood screamed the bad-boy look, with muscles, tattoos and attitude to back it up. When you grow up around Kalum West, his brother Maverick and their best friend Jaxson, bad boys are all you know.

  Then I met Ben -- clean-cut, straight-laced with a smile that could melt a glacier. I remember the first time I saw him at this very bar, talking with my three best childhood friends and their significant others, and I couldn’t believe the reaction my body had. I had never had that reaction to a man before, preppy or otherwise.

  As I got to know him better, I was continually confused about why after every time I saw him out, I needed to relieve myself with my battery-operated boyfriend. Because he was the complete opposite of my normal type. Where I’m on the front lines every day, taking down the worst criminals in Chicago, Ben is planning people’s financial futures. I’m on call 24/7, he has a stable 9 to 5. I live with a resting bitch face, and I’ve never seen him without that devastating smile that shows off a dimple on his left cheek.

  I might have not wanted the company tonight, but my mind is suddenly changing.

  “Who did she set you up with?” I ask, hoping that my prying came off as nonchalant as I hope.

  “A woman she met at one of Annabelle’s art classes,” he says, giving Rick his credit card to start his tab.

  “Doesn’t she normally teach gifted young artists?”

  He nods. “Yes, but apparently this was a woman who attended one of the paint and sip classes she does.”

  “That doesn’t seem so bad. Did you two just not hit it off?”

  “You could say that.”

  I don’t say anything, hoping that he divulges this information on his own. While we’ve always been friendly, it hits me that this is the most time the two of us have spoken since we met. We’ve always been around the group, it’s never just us.

  Suddenly, my nerves are trying to get the best of me.

  “Aren’t you curious?” he asks, taking a sip of his drink.

  “Oh, I am. I just don’t want to pry.”

  Well, I do, but he doesn’t need to know that.

  “Let’s put it this way, Tori informed me minutes before I left that she got so drunk at one event that she tried to eat paint. Come to find out at dinner, that’s not the weirdest thing she has tasted.”

  I nearly spit my beer out of my nose.

  “OK, you can’t leave me hanging on that one.”

  He laughs. “I really tried not to bring it up. But when she looked over the menu and said the words, ‘I wonder what this kind of plastic tastes like’ I knew the date was over before it started.”

  Now I’m laughing, not at Ben, but just at the situation. “How could Tori set you up with someone like that?”

  “I don’t know, she’s conveniently ignored all of my texts.”

  We fall into a comfortable silence, both of us sipping our drinks as the noise from the bar fills the space. I’m not normally a talkative person, which usually makes silences like this uncomfortable. But with Ben, I don’t feel that way. Not in the slightest.

  “I’m sorry your date was bad.”

  “It is what it is,” he says. “But if it led me to a night sitting next to you, I’m not that mad about it.”

  Neither am I, Ben. Neither am I.

  Chapter 3

  Ben

  An image of blonde hair goes through my mind. The memory of a laugh that I could get addicted to pulls my lips into a smile, though I have no idea what is so funny.

  “Earth to Ben. Hello? Ben? You there?”

  Alex, my best friend at Bell Financial Group, elbows me in my side, breaking me from my apparent, not-so-obvious daydream.

  “What?” I whisper, pretending he didn’t startle me as much as he did, not wanting to draw attention around the conference room currently holding 30 financial planners.

  “You better pay attention. Morris is on a roll today and it’s clear you haven’t listened to shit he has said over the past 10 minutes.”

  I nod, not realizing how much I had zoned out until now. I haven’t been able to concentrate on shit today, let alone on a presentation about building a client base that is more suited for a 4-year old rather than an established financial advisor who is near capacity with clients.

  I’m young to have the number of clients I have. But word of mouth travels far in this world, and word traveled far at my parent’s condo division when I doubled their initial investments.

  Building a client base is the furthest thing on my mind. Which is good, because the only thing I’m thinking about building today is more time in my schedule that I can possibly spend with Amanda.

  After Jacqueline started examining the menu to see if it indeed was edible, I shot off a text to Tori telling her that she was done trying to set me up. I appreciate the thought, but this was failed setup number three. I think a break is in order.

  I never expected to run into Amanda at the bar, but I’m so glad I did. I have always thought she was attractive, but in all our times hanging out, I never really had the chance to talk to her. To get to know her without others inserting themselves into the conversation.

  I remember the first time we met. Well, it wasn’t the first. The first time I met her she was pretending to be dating Kalum because he was helping her with an undercover police operation. Being friends with Tori, who was secretly dating Kalum at the time -- well secret to everyone but me -- my loyalty was strictly Team Tori. As she told me to say a few times when she believed they were together, “fuck that blonde bitch.”

  And after last night, I really want to do that.

  But I know she’s not a bitch. She’s the furthest thing from it. Yes, she might give off a “don’t fuck with me vibe,” but once you get past that, she’s hilarious. And smart. And fun to be around. And sweet.

  And drop-dead gorgeous.

  She has blonde hair that I’m sure women pay hundreds of dollars to replicate at a salon. Her blue eyes remind me of the water at a beach in Florida my parents me to one time on vacation. Her creamy skin with a spattering of freckles on her nose only makes her stand out in a unique way.

  Then there is her body, which I must say I have thought about more than a few times, but after last night I can’t get it out of my mind. Being a police offic
er, she’s in shape, but also doesn’t look like she spends hours at the gym. She’s deceptively strong, luring men in with curves in all the right places before putting them in a headlock and have them cry for their mommies.

  A vibration coming from my pocket pulls me out of another daydream -- this one of me and Amanda working out together, then taking well-deserved showers, together. I slip it out of my pocket, opening the message. Luckily in this business, when clients could message you at any time, having your phone out in a meeting isn’t frowned upon.

  Tori: What do you mean you’re done with my setups? Just because I didn’t realize she could have been on “My Stange Addiction” doesn’t mean you should give up. Come on Ben! Let me find your love!

  Yes, it took Tori more than 12 hours to respond to my text. No, I’m not surprised.

  Me: Yes you are. I appreciate your determination, but let’s take a break.

  I’m not about to tell her that I already have my eyes set on someone. Despite the start that Tori and Amanda got, they are actually pretty good friends now. So much so, that Amanda was a bridesmaid in her and Kalum’s wedding.

  But if I tell Tori that I’m interested in Amanda, it will immediately become a group thing. Everyone will be trying to push us together. And while that’s my goal, I want it to be because we want it, not because of our friends playing matchmaker and putting added stress on us.

  Tori: Fine. But I reserve the right to at least tell you about any potential women I think you’d like.

  Me: After plastic eater, I don’t trust you to know what I like. In fact, if you think I’ll hate her, then send her my way.

  Tori: You’re an ass.

  Me: Love you too.

  “I still don’t know how can be just friends with her,” Alex says, spying on my text conversation. “How can you just be friends with a woman who looks like she does?”

  “I have told you that her husband is a former car thief and can bench press me, right?” I go to the gym, but I’m not the biggest guy. And I’m 100-percent sure that Kalum could pick me up and get in at least five reps.

  I wonder if Kalum would have a problem with me dating Amanda? Their friendship goes back 20-plus years. Though she’s a cop and can more than protect herself, that doesn’t stop him from playing the role of big brother if she’s on the wrong end of unwanted advances when we are at the bar.

  Would my advances be unwanted? We didn’t exactly make plans when we went our separate ways last night, but I didn’t get a “get the fuck away from me” vibe, either.

  Fuck it. I’m going to ask her out. I don’t know where this sudden brave streak is coming from, but I’m tired of going out with women who I can barely hold a conversation with. Last night, there wasn’t a moment of awkward silence with Amanda.

  It was the best night I had in a long time.

  I grab my phone, not needing to scroll far to realize something that I should have hours ago.

  I don’t have Amanda’s number.

  How in the hell do I not have her number?

  We have been friends for months now… how could her number not be attached to one group message?

  Now back in my office, I have racked my brain trying to figure out how I can get my hands on it without doing the one thing that I don’t want to do.

  Two hours later I’m still coming up blank.

  Fuck it. She’s worth it.

  Me: I need a favor.

  I already hate myself for this.

  Tori: Oh so now you need me. You didn’t need me a few hours ago. What’s in this for me?

  I want to tell her that she’ll be essentially, maybe, setting me up. But I’m going to try and avoid those words as much as possible.

  Me: I’ll cook you dinner. Anything you want.

  Tori: That chicken dish. The one with the spinach.

  Me: Fine. Can I have Amanda’s number?

  I stare at the message and there’s nothing for a few minutes. The three bouncy dots eventually appear, disappear, then reappear at least five times.

  Tori: Why do you want Amanda’s… WAIT!!! Benjamin Alan Jameson are you wanting it for the reason I think you’re wanting it!?

  My middle name is not Allen but she’s been trying to guess it for months. All I told her was that it began with an A.

  Me: It’s not Alan. And maybe. Please don’t make a big deal out of this.

  Tori: Not a big deal! This is a huge deal! And how did I not think of this!? I’m kind of mad at myself. Here’s her number. I can’t wait to tell Kalum. And Annabelle and Scarlett. And everyone! OK. Go fall in love. EEEEEKKKKKK!!!!!!!!

  I don’t know if love is in our future, but I sure hope at least a date is.

  Chapter 4

  Amanda

  When I was a kid, puzzles fascinated me.

  Most parents wanted their kids to go outside and play in the fresh air, but considering I grew up on the Southside of Chicago and every time I stepped out of my house there was a risk of getting shot, my dad was more than happy to keep me cooped up inside.

  I didn’t mind. I had my books and puzzles. That’s all I needed.

  I used to dump the pieces out on our dining table, toss the box aside and time myself to see how quickly I could put it together. My record was a 1,000 piece puzzle in three hours flat.

  I like to think this is what makes me a good detective. I can stare at the evidence, files and suspect boards and put the puzzle together. Find the missing piece that binds it all together and solve the case.

  But today? I don’t think I could put together a preschool 10-piece puzzle if I was spotted the corners. Thank goodness it’s Saturday and I’m not at the precinct. I can imagine the shit I would get from the guys for being a space case today.

  Seeing Ben last night without the buffer of our friends threw me for a loop. A big one. One I’m not sure how I feel about.

  Though I intended on a night spent alone with my burger and my beer, his company was more than welcome. Our conversation was natural, and if I’m being real, I don’t remember the last time I laughed like that. It felt good, and even if it was just for a night, I was able to relax with the company of a friend.

  But then there were times when I looked at him, and I didn’t see just a friend. I saw a man looking at a woman like she was fascinating. Intriguing. Beautiful.

  And I couldn’t tell you the last time a man looked at me that way. I’m a nerdy, gun-carrying, not girly-girl with RBF. That doesn’t happen often. Or really ever.

  Then again, I could be making it all up in my head. I’m good at that. I’ve never been what society would deem a normal girl, and until I kissed Kalum under the monkey bars when we were 14, I’m pretty sure the boys in my neighborhood didn’t realize I was a girl, either.

  Because I grew up as one of the guys, I never really was flirted with. I was the friend. The sister. I didn’t care back then. I knew most of the guys from my old neighborhood were bad news, and the few guys I could trust didn’t see me like that.

  However, I didn’t realize then that this would manifest into a problem in my adult life where I can’t tell if a guy is flirting with me or just being nice. I’ve guessed wrong more than a few times. It’s quite embarrassing.

  Which is why my mind is in 20 different places after my night with Ben. He was looking at me the way I think a man looks at a woman who he’s interested in. As the night went along, our bodies instinctively moved toward each other. But there were no moves made.

  And the kicker… he didn’t ask for my phone number. Granted, I didn’t ask for his, but that’s a different story.

  Maybe he’s not as interested in me as I thought? I mean, I’m not going to sit around eating ice cream all day if that’s the case, but… I don’t know… it was nice, even if for one night, sharing a drink and a conversation with a good looking man.

  Realizing that I’m not getting anywhere on the case that I brought home to look over, I close the file and put it in my backpack as my phone vibrates on the table.


  Kalum: What are you doing tonight?

  Me: I’m super busy. I have a date with a washing machine and a man named Jon Snow. Maybe a bottle of wine if I’m feeling frisky.

  Kalum: Your comedy knows no bounds. Also I can’t believe you haven’t watched all of GoT yet. Anyway, we’re all heading to the bar tonight. Come with.

  I love that my oldest and dearest friend doesn’t give me an option on whether or not I want to come out tonight. But he also knows I can’t say no to him. Not since we just found our way back to the friendship that we had growing up.

  Kalum West and I have a complicated history. Even though we grew up together and he was the first boy to put his hand up my shirt, there are many years of my life that Kalum wasn’t a part of. As high school graduation came upon us, I knew I was headed to college for my degree in criminology. He knew there was a very good chance someday I’d have to arrest him. He had got mixed up with a gang, and despite him growing up saying he’d never go down that path, there he was alongside his brother, stealing cars and pressing his luck with the law.

  Until the day that I walked into his garage asking him to help me by going undercover, we hadn’t seen each other in nearly a decade. Though I hated the circumstances, I can’t be mad that I have one of my oldest friends back in my life.

  Me: Who’s all going?

  Kalum: The normal crew. Does it matter?

  Yes Kalum it matters. It matters that if Ben is going to be there because I need to make sure I actually try and put forth a little effort into looking good tonight. But not too good. I need to try for that “oh this just happened” cute that women can pull off on Pinterest.

  I’ve never pulled it off.

  Me: Nope. Doesn’t matter. Just curious. What time?

  Kalum: About 7. See you there.

  I look at my clock. I have about four hours to somehow look cute without trying.

  You know, just in case.