Murphy

by Jenny Wood

  I couldn’t deny that I was attractive by some people’s standards; I worked out, almost too much sometimes probably. I was toned and took care of my body, though it wasn’t for any other reason other than it just gave me something to do. I had short, styled hair, and a good complexion, thanks to my mystery heritage from a father I’d never known. And I had a smile that made people pause sometimes when they saw the dimple; though I felt like that’s all they saw of me and decided I wasn’t worth much more than something fun to look at. I wasn’t going to say, “poor, pitiful, handsome me,” but I couldn’t stand superficial people, and I’d say 99.9% of my exes were exactly that.

  Gathering all the paperwork for the Kennedy’s that I’d tried and failed to finish up last night, I sprawl them on my desk and lose myself for the next couple hours getting them all organized and ready for them to be signed and sent to the courthouse.

  When I was finished, I dialed Morgan and hoped that they weren’t terribly busy or bone tired from their night as new parents.

  “Murphy,” Morgan answered affectionately. I could hear the smile in his voice and hoped that meant they’d had a good night.

  “Good morning, is now an okay time?” I ask.

  “Of course, we’ve just given the kids a bath and are waiting for the doctor to swing by and release us. What’s up?” He sounded purely giddy. This was a part of my job that I loved.

  “Excellent, I’ve got everything ready to go, we just need to finish going over everything and getting everything signed, and then I can be out of your hair. I was hoping to get it taken care of in the next couple of days; the sooner we get it done, the sooner we can make all of this legal. I understand if you need a few days to get settled…”

  “No, today would be great, can you come by the house or do you need us to come in?” He cut me off, still sounding excited.

  “I can come to you. No problem.”

  “Great, can I shoot you a text when we’re leaving here, and you can just come on over, whenever?” He asked. I agreed, and we ended the call with plans to take care of it today. Good news.

  While I waited, I looked over the case files for the Stevens’, happy to have another instance that was a happy one. I had a file cabinet full of cases like Rebecca’s, but none of them were pressing; they were all in safe places- better off if you ask me, but I needed the happy distractions today.

  Pulling up at the log cabin that looked straight out of a painting out here, surrounded by orange and red leaved trees; I couldn’t help but be envious of the gorgeousness of this place that sat on a small lake. It was like a dream, a beautiful place to raise a family. Grabbing my things and admiring the cobblestone pathway, Kingsley met me at the door, the widest smile on his normally intimidating face. You’d never guess it by looking at him, but he was the most hilarious, sweet-natured guy I’d ever met, but he looked scary as hell at first glance. All tattoo’s and big, muscled body; I was nervous when I’d first met him…until he spoke, it was impossible not be a little in love with him, he was just that kind of person.

  “Murph.” He greeted with a handshake slash man hug, slash back slap that nearly knocked the wind out of me. I was a big guy myself, but nowhere as massive as Johnny Bravo here.

  “Hey, how’s fatherhood?” I say as he steps back to let me in.

  “Amazing, scary.” He laughs, walking me through the house to the dining room table.

  “Coffee, water, milk, juice, soda, beer, tea?” He offers, and I graciously accept some tea. I’m a sucker for southern sweet tea; it’s my one vice. I try to eat healthy-ish, I don’t smoke, I rarely drink, I take care of myself; but sweet tea in the south is more sugar than anything, and at my first taste at seventeen, it’d been my favorite beverage since.

  “Murphy, good to see you.” Morgan greeted, stepping into the room looking adorably disheveled. “I just put Wyatt down, thankfully they’re sleeping at the same time, that’s been rare so far.” He smiled, hugging me when he got close. These two were like that, extremely friendly. When Kingsley came back, and I thanked him for the drink, we spent the next couple hours going over every little detail; paperwork was tedious and time-consuming, but it would be worth it in the end.

  “Now I need both of your signatures here at the bottom and initial and date there underneath it, and that’s it!” I explain happily. “Typically in cases like this, the judge has ninety days to review, and then the court will call us with a date to come in. He’ll ask you a few questions and see how things are going, and make sure nobody’s changed their minds; then he’ll sign off on it and that’s that. Wyatt King and Gracie Joy will be legal Kennedy’s.”

  “We cannot thank you enough, you’ve made everything so easy for us.” Morgan stands when I do and pulls me into him again. His husband is watching him with the softest smile, and I find myself once again feeling envious, though so happy for this new family.

  “It’s my job,” I tell them lamely. “I’m always happy when there’s a happy ending.”

  “We’re having a get-together, just some of our friends next weekend; please come. We want to show off the babies, and there’ll be lots of food and great company. We couldn’t have done this without you; please say you’ll come.” Morgan asks, eyes fluttering so hopefully, I wondered how his husband ever told him, no.

  “Oh, that sounds like a family thing, I wouldn’t want to impose,” I say honestly, though meeting new people sounds terrifying but fun.

  “Family and friends, and because you helped us build our family, you’re currently our best friend.” Kingsley teased, though he winked and I felt as if he’d meant it.

  “Next weekend?” I asked to clarify.

  “Saturday, around seven? Don’t feel obligated to bring anything but yourself, but if you prefer a certain type of beer, I’d bring that; everyone here drinks something different it seems like.” Kingsley offered, though I didn’t drink, I’d bring a six-pack and maybe a bottle of wine. I’d never gone anywhere empty handed; those southern manners were ingrained. Just as I gotten everything put away, the unmistakable wail of an unhappy baby sent Morgan running.

  “He’s on it.” Kingsley snickered at his husband’s departing back. “If they even look like they’re gonna fuss, he’s on em’.”

  “He’s a new dad; it’s to be expected.” I smile as he rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “I should get out of your hair; I’ll call with any problems, but I don’t foresee any complications. It should be smooth sailing from here.”

  “Wait! You haven’t met the babies, yet.” Morgan reenters the room with a baby in each arm. I wonder how he managed to do that, picking up one without being scared to death he’d drop them, seems scary enough but two at the same time? How many arms did he have back there?

  “Oh, I don’t-“ I tried to object, but he was placing Wyatt in my arms before I could.

  “Wyatt and Gracie, this is Murphy. Murphy, these are our dream come true.” I stared at them in fascination; I’d never held babies this small before. “Thanks to you.” Morgan finished in a whisper, and I found myself getting choked up. This was definitely the best part of my job, and at the moment, it felt wonderful.

  Cruz

  Shitty day on top of an already shitty fucking week. Things with Mamá and Teo were getting worse, as well as things with Teo’s father; which is why I think he was acting out more than usual. Knowing Mamá had enough to worry about, I was trying a little harder to get through to my stubborn ass brother. He was hurting, I knew that, but putting Mamá through the wringer wasn’t helping anyone. I’d called his cell for the third time today, and again it went straight to voicemail.

  “Teo, it’s been two days; cut the shit and go home. You’re hurting your mother.” I stabbed my phone’s “end” button, but it had little effect on the need to slam the phone down or chuck it into a wall or something.

  “What’s goin’ on?” Wade asked, no doubt feeling my wall of frustration as he joined me at my desk.

  “Family drama.” I rolled my eye
s and tried to shrug it off. Wade wouldn’t push if I didn’t want to talk about it, but I’d found myself venting to him about the situation more than once during our late night shift a couple of days ago. In a town this size with little crime, there wasn’t a whole lot else to do but shoot the shit and hang in between calls and paperwork.

  “That brother of your still giving your Ma a hard time?” He asks, and I nodded in confirmation.

  “That’s rough, man; but the kid is losing his dad, and there’s nothing he can do about it. He’s likely doing dumb shit because it’s something he at least has control over.” Wade suggested, and I knew that I really did, but hearing it put that way made me feel like an asshole for getting so mad at him for being stubborn.

  “Yeah, you’re probably right.” I agree, I just hated that Mamá was getting the brunt end of it. I felt like an even bigger dick for getting frustrated at her for calling and involving me in it. They were my family and even though I didn’t claim her bitch ass husband, I shouldn’t turn my back on Mamá and Teo. They were all I had.

  “You got plans this weekend?” Thankful for a subject change, I tell Wade I rarely have plans on the weekend, as its usually my time off me mostly lounge around the house or get stuff done that I neglect all week. Grocery shop, laundry, fix shit around the house. I lead a fairly boring life. Some weekends I’ll drive up to the city and find some fun, but I’m always back home in my own bed, alone before it gets too late.

  “The Kennedy’s are having a welcome home party for the babies. Cam’s gonna text you later about it, but Foster and Morgan told me to invite you, too.” He tells me, and for a second I want to accept. A second before I remember Murphy and wonder if he’ll be there. I’d kind of fucked up the last time I’d seen him, and as much as I wanted to apologize, I didn’t need an audience to do it. And some of those guys were as gossipy as old ladies.

  “Who’s all gonna’ be there?” I try for nonchalance, but Wade eyed me skeptically.

  “Foster said that Morgan invited the adoption specialist, that who you’re wondering about?” He smirked when my eyes went wide. What the fuck?

  “What?” I croaked, not fooling anyone by the looks of his eye roll.

  “Damnit, he and Morgan were right, you’ve got a thing for the social worker on steroids?” Wade asked, and I was floundering. Where did they get that idea? Did Murphy say something to them? Did he tell them that we’d hooked up and I’d kicked him out like a douchebag?

  “Calm down; it was speculation. You just gave yourself away, amigo.” Wade said with a hilarious southern drawl.

  “It isn’t like that. I was a dick to him; I wanted to apologize. How the fuck did they know I even knew him?”

  “Morgan said the way he ran away the other day when we went and met the babies. I didn’t even notice.” He chortles, no doubt laughing at my expense.

  “He didn’t run away,” I grumble, but he had, and I knew it. He didn’t want to be in the same room as me, and I can’t say I blamed him.

  My phone buzzed in my desk, and I’d hoped it was my brother returning one of my many calls of the day, but I’d seen Mamá’s number and as terrible of a son as it made me feel; I did not want to answer it. I needed a break from the drama. I needed time to unwind with some friends- which I considered my boss Wade and his boyfriend Foster to be.

  “I need a drink; you wanna hit “Blues” after shift?” I ask, thinking of the old saloon looking tavern, appropriately named “Blue’s Tavern” that was just restored to the old-timey, jukebox saloon it used to be back in the mid-1800’s.

  “Wade! Tell Cruz he’s got a call. Line 1!” Margie yelled from her post in front. Fuckin, Mamá. I sighed wearily but snatched up the phone.

  “Cruz.” I greet, frustrated and again feeling like shit about it.

  “I’m looking for a Michael Cruz, regarding his brother, Mateo De Marco.” The woman at the end of the line has my back snapping to attention and worry.

  “I’m Michael Cruz, he’s my brother. Where is he? Is he okay?” I demand a little forcefully, but we’d not heard from him in two days; surely it wasn’t something bad, right?

  “Mr. Cruz, my name is Jessica Morris, and I’m a public defender with Holton County, Juvenile Detention. Your brother was brought in yesterday morning in the early hours after an accident involving a friend’s car. However, the friend did permit Mateo to drive the car, though they both were under the influence of alcohol. No one was hurt, luckily, but as he’s seen Judge Crane this morning, his bond is $250 and his mother said she would release him to your custody or she’d be forced to leave him in custody of the courts.” This woman, all clinical and professional tells me, and I have a hard time keeping up. My brother was drinking and driving? He caused an accident or was involved in one anyway; my mother wanted him released in my custody? What the fuck, Ma?

  “Now because your brother has never been in legal trouble before, he doesn’t have a record. I understand your father is going through a difficult time-“

  “Not my father, his.” I interrupted, stupidly.

  “My apologies.” She counters, “As I can understand that this is a trying time for your family, I don’t think Judge Harpshaw, who will be dealing with your brothers’ case, will be too lenient. However, because Mateo’s mother named you, and both have told me you’re in law enforcement, I truly believe that Harpshaw will accept my recommendation of forty hours of community service and supervised probation for the duration of his hours. It may seem harsh, Mr. Cruz, but I assure you, if he fights it, it could be worse.” She finishes. I feel like I was thrown into the deep end and I dunno what how to swim.

  “Is there a way I can talk to him?” I ask, needing first and foremost, just to make sure the pain in my ass is okay.

  “I can allow it for only a moment, as it’s almost dinner time and if I don’t get him back out there on time, he’ll miss it for the evening.” She tells me, and I hear her shuffling the phone and speaking softly.

  “Michael?” I hear my brother's soft tone and loudly release the breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “I’m sorry, I fucked up.”

  “Language, mano, are you okay?” I ask, forgoing the ass-chewing he has coming. He sounds sorry enough for now.

  “I’m okay. Mamá is really pissed.” He whispers, and I almost feel bad for him. Almost.

  “Mano, you bought that. You’ve been a little asshole lately, and she’s got enough to worry about. She disappointed and probably scared because she cannot get through to you. What do you want her to do?” Tough love, I know it sucks, but what did he expect? Nobody sugar-coated shit for me and I learned to grow up really fucking fast because of it. Mateo needs to grow up, this isn’t healthy, and it isn’t the way to fix things.

  “I know. I’ve been…. mixed up, in my head, hermano; mad, so fucking mad all the time, and I just want it to stop.” He tells me brokenly. I don’t correct his language this time; I know where he’s coming from all too well. I sigh into the phone and consider our options.

  “Mamá says I can come get you. I haven’t talked it over with her, but maybe you can stay with me a while. At least until your community service is over with. I think maybe you just need a break from everything and to get away for more than a couple days. How’sat?” I ask, knowing it’ll be a big adjustment, and hoping it’s not one I’ll end up regretting.

  “Yeah? You think that would be okay?” He asks and fuck if I don’t hear the hope in his voice, that’s enough to cement my decision.

  “Yeah, I’ll call her right now; put me back on with your public defender and then go eat, mano, I’ll get it worked out,” I promise him. So much for my weekend to unwind.

  “Thanks, Michael. I owe you one.” Teo says, and he doesn’t sound as weary. I’m thankful for that. I tell the lady I’ll be up there later tonight and she gives me her number, so I don’t have to wait on the detention center to find her when I get there. Hanging up, I wonder what kind of shit I just got myself into.

  Holton Cou
nty Juvenile Detention Center was a disgusting place to be. It looked like it hadn’t been updated anytime this century and the gray, chipped walls and blinking, fluorescent lights were giving me a headache.

  “Mr. Cruz, sorry to keep you waiting; this is Judge Harpshaw. I know this is a little unorthodox, but he’s taking a liking to your brother, so he’s agreed to get everything out of the way, now.” The woman I spoke with on the phone, Jessica Morris comes in with a well-dressed, older gentleman, wearing a polo and khaki pants walks in.

  “Sheriff Cruz, it’s nice to meet you, though I wish it were under better circumstances.” The judge says, shaking my hand, then we both sit. He turns sideways in his chair and looks me sympathetically.

  “I’m going, to be honest, your brother’s situation is somewhat personal to me. My daughter, about ten years ago was going through a similar phase. Her mother had an inoperable brain tumor and had been declining for months before we lost her. It was a trying time. It’s hard for everyone, but for a child, it’s almost unbearable. I suspect your brother is feeling a bit helpless, a bit lost, and he’s trying his best to make it out unscathed. But you and I both know that isn’t possible. It sucks, it isn’t fair, and it’s hard. It’s going to be harder.” He bluntly tells me. I agree, it’s going to be hard, I know it’s hard for him, I just don’t know what to do to fix it. I don’t say that, and Judge Harpshaw carries on. “Mr. Cruz, I see delinquents in and out of my courtroom on a daily basis. Repeat offenders and lawbreakers, every day. Your brother is not that. He’s a good kid, Mr. Cruz; he’s just got to find someplace else to put all that hurt.”