Ride Along

by Meghan Maslow

  “One of those hons goosed me.” Josh rubbed his ass.

  Drew gripped his sides as he laughed. “Can you blame them, Officer Hot Stuff?”

  Josh bumped his shoulder. “Shut up. You were the one jumping in the middle of it all, begging for attention.”

  Drew smiled. “Yep. That’s me. Attention whore extraordinaire. Oooh, look, glasses!” Drew bounded off to look at a pair of cat-eye sunglasses for sale. After haggling with the retailer, he paid and set the bright blue frames on his nose. “What do you think?”

  He looked ridiculous. And adorable. Josh smiled in spite of himself. “I think you’re ruining my reputation as a tough beat cop.”

  Drew looked him up and down. “I like you better this way.”

  “Well, you’re the only one, believe me.” Josh spun and strode toward the Cafe Hon. “Come on,” he called over his shoulder. “Let’s get something to eat.”

  DREW WAS having a ball. Cafe Hon was even better than he’d imagined. The three-story pink flamingo on the building’s façade gave Drew a tiny clue what the café itself would be like.

  He wasn’t disappointed.

  The life-sized figure of Elvis when he entered was just the tip of the iceberg. He’d posed with the statue, made Josh take his photo. A picture was worth a thousand words, after all. Josh shook his head, but he smiled the whole time. Drew was becoming addicted to his smile. He didn’t seem to do it often, but man, when he did… wow. If Drew had been wearing manties, they’d have been around his ankles.

  And the customers were a hoot. Lots of hons, tourists, and even a couple Elvis impersonators. The restaurant’s air conditioner must have been working overtime with all the hons crowded in, but the café remained cool like an oasis in the desert. And the leopard-print fabric on the booths was just classic. Didn’t get much better than that.

  Drew removed his sunglasses so he could see the menu better and pulled out his notebook—just in case. A waitress dressed in full hon gear bustled over and took their order. When Drew ordered a crab cake plate, Josh raised an eyebrow.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  After the waitress left, Drew leaned in to be heard over the roar of the other customers. “Are the crab cakes bad here? Should I have ordered a burger instead?”

  “No, they’re good. I just didn’t expect you to order them.”

  “Some weird Bawlmer”—Drew imitated Josh’s speech—“tradition I’m breaking?”

  Josh chuckled. “No. I just figured you for a vegetarian.”

  Drew wrinkled his nose. “Because of the dreads, you mean.”

  “In part.”

  “Well, I’m not. I like meat just fine.” He smirked and Josh didn’t look away. In fact he looked… interested. Drew gulped. No, he had to be misreading the signals. But Josh still kept eye contact with him, a slow smile spreading on his face.

  “So you’ve said.”

  “Uh-huh.” Smooth, Drew, real smooth. “So… uh?” What had he been about to say?

  “We’re talking about how you like… meat.”

  Drew blew out a breath. Shook his head. “Why, Officer Hot Stuff, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were flirting.”

  Josh slid forward so they were almost nose-to-nose. Drew could feel his breath ghost across his lips and wanted nothing more than to close the distance.

  “Maybe I am.” Josh pulled away and settled back in the booth. Drew’s cock had gone hard in zero-point-two seconds. Damn. Unfair. The tease. And he knew it too, if his satisfied look was any indication. Drew wiggled around, trying to take the pressure off his straining zipper without being too obvious. But there was no way Josh didn’t know what Drew was doing. Josh’s smile became a grin.

  “Oh, shut up.”

  Josh laughed. A deep, rich sound, and Drew knew he was lost. If Officer Hot Stuff wanted him, he’d gladly spend the night tangled up in a pile of sweaty limbs. Drew’s thoughts really weren’t helping him with his hard-on problem.

  “It’s not nice to lead on the poor redheaded boy, you know.” Drew pretended to pout.

  “Mmm, I like your red hair. I always had a thing for gingers.” Josh’s leg brushed his under the table.

  Holy hell, Josh really was flirting with him. No question about it. Before Drew could respond, their waitress returned with their meals. Drew wrinkled his nose at Josh’s Reuben sandwich. At least the crab cakes looked appetizing. Digging in, he rested his leg against Josh’s under the booth. Neither moved away.

  “Can I ask you some questions about your job?” Drew’s voice came out a little squeakier than he’d intended as he shifted forward to be heard over the racket. Hons made a hell of a lot of noise.

  Josh wiped his mouth on a napkin after a particularly hearty bite of his sandwich.

  “Sure. Now that you’ve buttered me up.” He winked.

  Drew swallowed. Hard. A flirtatious Josh was deadly to his equilibrium.

  “I wanted to know about proper procedures. I see cop shows on TV and stuff, and I’ve been reading up on it, but I feel like I’m going to make tons of mistakes in my novel if I don’t talk to someone in the know.”

  “What is it you want to know?”

  Drew huffed. “That’s the problem. Everything. I want to know everything. I’m so afraid of making a mistake I can’t seem to move forward with this book. I’ve got terrible writer’s block. My family thinks this is just a cute hobby, but I want to make a go of it. Only now I can’t seem to put a single word on the page. I only have a couple months before a draft is due to my agent and then the publisher.” Wow, overshare much, Drew?

  Josh blinked.

  “You have an agent?”

  Not what Drew expected him to say.

  “Well, you can’t get a big publishing house to look at you without one. She’s really great too. But I have to have something to show her, you know?”

  “Didn’t someone say you’d won an award?”

  He’d heard that?

  “Mm-hmm. The Edgar. It’s kind of like the Oscars, but for mysteries.”

  “Wow, so it’s important?”

  “I guess.” He shrugged. “But what does it matter if I can’t even write the next book? I’ll be a one-hit wonder—”

  “That’s amazing. Your first book and you won an Oscar.”

  “Edgar. After Edgar Allan Poe. But the thing is—”

  “You’re scared and it’s paralyzing you. Yeah, got it.”

  Well, he’d just cut to the chase. But every word was true.

  “I’m terrified. I want this so bad, but no one seems to believe in me, and I’m having a hard time believing in myself at the moment. Especially when I can’t seem to make the words sing on the page. My last book wasn’t like that. I had this idea and I just wrote it. But I don’t know anything about police procedurals. I don’t know what I was thinking when I told everyone I intended to write one.” Drew banged his palm against his forehead.

  “Okay. You obviously need an inside source. And now you’ve got one.” Josh pointed to himself. “Why don’t you tell me some scenarios in your book, and I’ll fill in as much as I can.”

  “Really?” Drew wanted to throw himself across the table and kiss Josh. Instead, he opened his notebook.

  Josh popped a fry in his mouth. “Yeah, really. Shoot.”

  Drew’s questions spilled out. He’d barely touched his food by the time Josh had finished his meal.

  “Man, you weren’t kidding.” Josh took the last bite of a dill pickle and pushed his plate away. “We can finish up in the car if you have more questions.”

  “Can I ask you one more, now?” Drew nibbled on his lip. He should mind his own business, but…. “What’s it mean when a stuffed rat is left on an officer’s windshield?”

  Josh’s expression hardened, and it was like watching a door slam shut. Shit.

  “Y-you don’t have to answer. I shouldn’t have asked.”

  “You planning to use it in your novel?” Josh’s voice had gone c
old, all the humor leached away.

  “No.” Drew stared at the tabletop, not wanting to see the anger in Josh’s eyes. “I’m sorry.”

  An awkward silence ensued. He closed his notebook so Josh would see he wasn’t going to continue prying. Drew picked at his meal, but his appetite was gone. Why did he have to be so nosy? It wasn’t his business, but he couldn’t help asking anyway. As if they were buddies or something.

  When the waitress came, Drew breathed a sigh of relief and snatched the check before Josh could take it.

  “What are you doing?” Josh’s tone was still thunderous and sent a shiver down his spine.

  “Paying for dinner.”

  “Didn’t realize we were on a date.”

  Drew cringed. Okay, then.

  “We’re not, but when I looked up ride along etiquette, it said I should pay for the meal if we had one together.”

  “You researched ride along etiquette?”

  “Well, how was I supposed to know what to do or not do? Writer, remember. Research. It’s what I do.”

  Josh snorted. “I don’t need—or want—you to pay for my meal. I got it.”

  “If you’re sure. I don’t mind—”

  “I’m very sure.”

  Drew scanned the check, pulled out his cash, and then handed the bill to Josh. He wasn’t going to argue. He’d obviously pissed Josh off, and his apology hadn’t meant anything.

  What more could he do?

  ONE QUESTION and Josh withdrew into himself. One effing question. Drew shouldn’t have asked it, but in some ways Josh shouldn’t have been surprised. Drew was bubbling over with curiosity. About everything. Of course he’d go there. The question was, why did Josh want to tell him about it?

  Drew’s eyes were now firmly locked on his face. His protective body language—hunched like he was getting ready to take a blow—spoke volumes about how he expected Josh to act. For fuck’s sake.

  “There’s a code of silence among cops, okay? When a fellow officer does something wrong, some of us—the bad ones—will pretend he didn’t. They’ll even perjure themselves to protect a brother. Anyone who breaks the code is a rat in their book. I had a partner who overstepped his authority and killed a man. When I didn’t back up his account, I became a rat.” Josh blew out a harsh breath, waiting for Drew to start peppering him with questions now that the floodgates had opened. God, why did it still hurt so much to think about Eric?

  “It’s why you’re so standoffish.”

  He wasn’t sure what he expected Drew to say, but that hadn’t been it.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I just mean, it makes sense. You expect people to treat you a certain way even if you do the right thing.” Drew reached out his hand, brushed it over Josh’s forearm, withdrew it almost as quickly. “I’m sorry it happened, both for you and your partner.”

  “Not your fault. You don’t need to be sorry.” Josh shifted in his seat.

  “But I am. I don’t know what I would do if my friends and coworkers turned on me. I mean, my family isn’t always supportive of my dreams, but at least they have good intentions. From what I’ve seen, cops are like family, right? You even used the word ‘brother’ to describe them. That’s a lot to lose for doing the right thing.”

  Josh shrugged. Drew’s understanding unnerved him, made him feel both defensive and warm at the same time. He’d expected him to ask lots of prying questions. Instead Drew’s face showed a mixture of sadness and sympathy. If they’d been in private, he was pretty sure Drew would have offered him a hug. Maybe he was more hippy-dippy than Josh gave him credit for. But even as he thought it, he knew it was just Drew’s nature to be kind.

  “Wow, and then you get stuck carting me around all evening, asking questions and talking your ear off.” Drew leaned back in the booth, his eyes wide.

  “It hasn’t been that bad.” Josh couldn’t keep the smile out of his voice. “You grow on a guy. Like mold. Or fungus.”

  “Thanks. I think there’s a compliment in there somewhere.” Drew shook his head but smiled for the first time since Josh had gone ice king on him. “You ready to go?”

  “Aren’t you curious about what happened?” Josh almost sounded disappointed. WTH? He’d avoided discussing his feelings with the police shrink, but here he was, upset that Drew wasn’t poking and prodding for all his secrets.

  “I’m a writer. I’m always curious. But I don’t want you to humor me. It’s private stuff, so if you don’t want to tell me, it’s fine. I wasn’t trying to turn your life into my story or anything.”

  “Let’s move this to the car.” Josh checked his phone. “We’re out of time anyway.”

  Drew threw his notebook into his bag, then picked up his cat-eye glasses and perched them back on his nose. “Lead on.”

  AS THEY wound their way back through the crowd, Drew was just as enamored as the first time. He stopped to listen to one of the bands for a minute. He’d liked the one they’d first passed when they entered, but he wasn’t as crazy about this one. It was a sort of rap-country fusion that should have worked, but didn’t.

  “I’ll be right back. Stay here.” Josh waved and disappeared into the crowd. Drew watched the band for a couple minutes. Josh returned carrying two snow cones. He handed one to Drew.

  “A must in Bawlmer.”

  “So I’ve heard. I never understood the appeal, personally. I mean, ice cream’s so much better.” Drew nudged his shoulder and managed not to chortle as he threw down the gauntlet, but just barely. He’d heard Baltimore natives took their snow cones seriously.

  “You wound me.” Josh placed a hand over his heart. “I guess you have to be a true local to appreciate the wonder of the snow cone.” Josh took a big bite of his, then stuck his tongue out at Drew. The snow cone had turned it blue.

  Drew stuck his tongue out at Josh and knew it had to be a bright orange. Yeah, it was pretty good, but he wasn’t telling Josh that.

  Josh’s attention was diverted by some teenage boys being rowdy. They seemed to be sparring with some sort of martial arts. How they managed it in the heat was beyond Drew. It was all he could do to stand there without melting into a puddle.

  Josh handed Drew his snow cone.

  “Give me a minute.” He wandered their way. Drew stopped watching the band and focused on Josh instead. Was he going to move the kids along? They were being a bit unruly, though it seemed like harmless fun.

  As Josh neared, the boys quit their rough play, suspicion crossing their faces. Unfortunately, things were still tense between the police and public after the 2015 protests. But it seemed to be settling down. You’d never know it by the look on the teenagers’ faces, though.

  Josh said something to one of the boys and after a minute, he grinned and nodded. Josh squared off against him, set into a fighting stance. The boy did likewise. What was he doing?

  Drew drifted closer so he could overhear.

  “Keep your elbow up. You’re creating a weak spot by dropping it down like that.” Josh waggled his elbow up and down, encouraging the boy to do the same. When the boy did it, Josh shifted in slow motion, demonstrating a move the boy had done earlier, only it hadn’t looked like that. Josh made it seem like poetry. Or dance. The other boys crowded around, and within seconds they were all copying his movements.

  After a time, Josh fist-bumped the kid he’d started with and waved to the others. He smiled as he caught up to Drew.

  “What were you doing?”

  “Brazilian jiujitsu. Those kids are taking it at a local studio. Just thought I’d help them with their technique a little.”

  “Wow. Have you studied it for a long time?”

  “All my life.”

  “You were great with those kids. They ate it up.”

  “I used to help out with the little ones. I like kids. Even teenagers. They’re so enthusiastic.”

  Another endearing quality of Officer Hot Stuff. He was full of surprises, and Drew felt like a kid at Christmas as he found each one.<
br />
  Drew handed back Josh’s snow cone and they finished their—now mostly melted—treats as they headed back to the cruiser. Drew didn’t want to get Josh into any trouble, especially now that he knew Josh was on some people’s shit list. It sucked. Drew could never have been a cop. He didn’t have the thick skin for it, and he sure as hell wouldn’t be comfortable covering for a bad cop.

  Nope, he tended to be more of what his dad called—and not so flatteringly—a softie. A softie who—according to his parents—was also super reckless, even though he’d carried a 3.9 grade-point average through college, gotten a good job right after graduating and worked it for the last three years, paid his bills on time, and owned his own home. The way they acted, you’d think he got his kicks shooting up, having loads of unprotected sex, and BASE jumping in a freakin’ squirrel suit. Everything he did they said was too risky.

  Guess in comparison to his sister “the vet” and his brother “the real estate agent,” wanting to be a mystery writer—instead of continuing to work as a successful grant writer for a small environmental NGO—seemed flighty. Well, that and the fallout from his relationship with Brian, his ex. He didn’t want to think about that, though.

  Especially not now.

  After climbing back into the squad car, he buckled up and prepared for another couple hours cruising Hampden, notebook at the ready.

  “You have never even had a speeding ticket, have you?” Josh chuckled.

  “Why do you say that?” Well, he hadn’t. It wasn’t like he was drag racing his Civic or anything. But it was a funny leap. Like he was in Drew’s head or something.

  “You got your nose all bent out of shape over littering, each time you get in the car the first thing you do is buckle up, and I noticed you went straight to the crosswalk so you wouldn’t jaywalk.” Josh ticked the points off on his fingers.

  “You’re making fun of me.”

  “Maybe a little.” Josh laughed, and Drew wanted to unbuckle his seat belt and show Josh how much he appreciated that sound.

  “What’s wrong with following the law? Aren’t you supposed to want me to be a law-abiding citizen?”