The Hooker, the Handyman and What the Parrot Saw

by Patricia Harman

  “Hmm, funny, I wasn’t left with that impression,” she said looking away, referencing his refusal to kiss her last night which was not something she planned to bring up. She was shocked by what had come out of her mouth. Jake raised an eyebrow and shot her a sideways glance.

  “As I said, I’m always ready,” he said as he pulled an M4 assault rifle from under his seat and raised it between his legs. He racked the charging handle, sending a shiver through Charlie’s body. Damn it and holy shit. He looked amazing holding the gun between his legs.

  Charlie feigned boredom as Jake grinned at her, knowing full well the temperature in the SUV was rising. Ignoring him, Charlie looked out the window as Jake headed toward Daniel Silver’s house. She could feel him glancing at her and she started to feel uncomfortable. She needed to find something to do with her hands and finally reached for the satellite radio, tuning it to the oldies channel.

  “What are you, fifty years old?”

  He turned the station back to the Lithium channel causing the SUV to fill with a haunting tune she remembered from her brother Tom’s collection.

  “Could you go a little easier on the Aqua Velva if we are going to be stuck in the same car all night?”

  “I’m not wearing cologne. It’s soap. If you want me not to shower, I can accommodate you,” he said dead-pan. They drove in silence to the target’s house and picked their spot.

  She wanted to continue to ignore him but she couldn’t help looking at him. It was obvious he had dressed up a little for her. He was full of shit when he said he wasn’t wearing cologne. She knew that was for her. She usually doubted herself on every front on the rare occasion she was attracted to a man, but not this time. It was so sweet of him. Charlie had to fight off the urge to climb into his lap and nuzzle her face against his chest.

  “I’m sorry Jake,” she said quietly. “I didn’t sleep well.”

  “How come?” he asked with a look of concern that made her want to touch his face.

  “Nightmare,” but she offered no further explanation and he nodded in understanding, all irritation reduced to dust. He reached for her hand and gently brushed his finger across her knuckles but did not look over at her just yet.

  “Favorite food?” he asked quietly, not taking his eyes off the house.

  “Grilled, broiled, or blackened seafood of just about any kind. Unless you’re talking takeout.” He turned sideways in the seat to face her and she became lost in his eyes.

  “And if we are talking takeout?”

  “What?” she asked in a whisper, not quite able to both hear him and look at him at the same time.

  “And if we are talking takeout, what is your favorite?”

  “Oh. Easy” she smiled. “Orange crusted chicken from the Gay Dolphin.”

  “The Gay Dolphin?”

  “You’re going to love it. My treat.”

  They both relaxed and fell back into the comfortable rhythm that preceded the kiss that wasn’t last night.

  Jake took a long deep breath, drinking her in. God she was beautiful. She was even hotter in her SWAT clothes than she was in her girl clothes. She caught him gazing at her. He needed a distraction. He didn’t really care, but he had to think fast.

  “So, you never told me. How did you end up in Landon? Did you grow up here? What made you decide to become a police officer?”

  “Oh that.” Charlie grinned slowly and sweetly, the light coming up in her eyes. “Louise Brown.”

  1997 Landon, Virginia

  Charlie’s father had met a woman. Apparently, someone had fixed them up on a blind date and Charlie’s father had been seeing the woman for over a year without introducing her to his children.

  So that’s where her father had been, Charlie fumed.

  Louise Brown looked like a real estate agent complete with elegant suit, upswept hair, and tasteful jewelry. Carol Brady came to mind. Gag me, Charlie thought. No wonder Dad made us dress up for the “surprise”. It took forever to get to Carol Brady’s house in the upscale neighborhood of Westridge in Landon. That was at least forty miles from her scruffy neighborhood in Sterling. The rest was a blur. They would leave their home in Sterling, their school, their friends, Mr. Daley. They left their whole life, such as it was, and they moved into the Home Interiors tacky McMansion of Louise Brown and her twit twins. Their house would be clean, laundry would be done and put away, meals would include vegetables and friends would be—gone. Charlie didn’t think it was possible to feel more alone in the world than she already felt, but she was wrong. The only life Charlie and her brother knew was over.

  Tom immediately settled down. This new life was doing wonders for him. He took to his new high school like a duck to water, made the football team and quit smoking both weed and cigarettes.

  Well fuck that!

  Charlie made a half-hearted effort to fit in but it wasn’t working. She couldn’t stay in her father’s new world and she couldn’t stay with her mother and she couldn’t go back to her real home. At age sixteen Charlie had lost the little bit of baby fat she had and had transformed into a truly beautiful young woman. Petite with long straight brown hair, and massive brown eyes. She was stunning. Though she would die before admitting it, the butterfly transformation was entirely due to her step-mother Louise, who just wouldn’t give up on her. Very subtly and with the stealth of a jungle cat and the patience of Job, Louise would stalk Charlie when she was dressing, doing her hair or putting on her make-up and would gently engage her. “I’ve never seen you wear this dear, have you thought about pairing it with these pants? Would you like to try this blush? I bought it for myself but it’s too young a color for a woman my age, but I’ll bet it would look lovely on you. I’m going to the salon today, would you mind driving me?” Then once inside the salon it would be cut, color, wax, paws and claws for both of them.

  In the year she spent with Louise, Charlie had learned grooming, manners, how to dress, how accessorize, and even how to flirt, all without even knowing she was receiving the training her real mother had failed to give her. It wasn’t enough.

  At age sixteen, Charlie packed a backpack and hit the road. She hid out at Laura’s at first, but that was too obvious. She thought about going to Mr. Daley’s but she knew that showing up at his place would raise too many questions and just get him into trouble. Plus, he would be disappointed with the decision she had made to run away, though he couldn’t possibly be more disappointed in her than Charlie was in herself. She stayed with friends, hidden in their basements or garages, fought off creeps, ran from cops, and generally gave up on her young life. After two long months she finally had to face the facts. It wasn’t working out to be on her own either. She decided to return home to Landon. Home to Landon. She had nowhere else to go.

  Charlie sat on the hill behind her stepmother’s house for hours before mustering up the courage to go inside. She wondered; what would her father and Louise say? Would they even let her stay? Maybe they would have the police come pick her up and take her to juvey—or worse, they would put her on a bus to her mother’s.

  The front door was unlocked. It was 8:30 at night and it was Christmas break so the twits would be home. Great—she would be berated in front of everyone for the trouble she had caused, for the worry she put them through. Running away was the most selfish thing Charlie had ever done and she was filled with remorse and self-loathing. She prepared herself for what she knew she had coming. They would hate her for what she had done and she deserved it.

  As Charlie stepped inside the house, she could hear the TV in the family room. She stood in the doorway to the room and looked around. The house was beautifully decorated for Christmas. She couldn’t remember the last time she and her brother had Christmas decorations or even a tree. There was a warm fire crackling in the fireplace and Charlie’s father and Louise were snuggled up on the sofa. Tessa was in the Lay-Z-Boy and Tom and Tina were spraw
led out on the floor. She made eye contact with her father first, but it was Louise who spoke. “Charlie,” she gasped putting a hand to her heart. “Oh, thank God. Welcome home sweetheart. Come here, don’t we even get a hug?” Charlie dropped her backpack and ran to Louise and hugged her and never wanted to let go. Her father joined the hug. Tears streamed down his face followed by her brother who was not happy but who was clearly relieved as were her two step-sisters who were both holding back tears. What the . . . ? Charlie was floored by her family’s reaction.

  Her family.

  In the weeks that followed, Charlie was placed in a catch-up program at school designed to spark an interest in trouble teens. The idea was to develop any interest that might divert them from their self-destructive behavior. Each week they had to choose a job site to attend in the afternoon following accelerated classes. At the end of the program they had to have completed seven of ten sites. Animal hospital, repair garage, emergency room, funeral home, retail store, elementary school aid, homeless shelter, hair salon, and police ride-along.

  Charlie’s counselor was a very sweet man; very Mr. Rogers in his little sweater, with his round glasses and his sweet soft voice. “Well there, Charlotte, let’s see your worksheet. I see you have passed on the police ride-along?”

  “It’s Charlie and you bet your ass I pass,” she quipped. “Sorry. I just spent two months running from those jerks. I do not want to be in a police car with them for ten hours.”

  “You know Charlie,” he chided, “sometimes it is a lack of understanding that causes us to make judgments and assumptions about people or this case, professions. I think this would be a good experience for you. I’m going to override your list and trade out one of the other selections for the police ride-along.”

  “You can’t. It says I have to be seventeen. I’m only sixteen.” she smirked.

  “You’ll be seventeen before the end of term, Charlie.” She squared her jaw and stared at the floor. Mr. Rogers is an asshole, she decided.

  Chapter 16

  The Ride-Along

  Charlie really enjoyed the experiences of the other sites, especially the emergency room and fire department. They were both a rush of adrenaline and she could see herself doing either of these jobs. But now it was time to ride with the fucking police. When the date arrived, Charlie read the instructions carefully and chose appropriate attire, had her parents sign the release form, and headed for the Eastern District station of the Landon PD.

  Landon PD wasn’t a large agency as police departments go, about eighty-five sworn officers, but the expansive area they covered outside of Virginia Beach necessitated two stations. She arrived at the Eastern District station promptly at 3:30 on Saturday afternoon and met with the station Captain, J. K. Sullivan, who would later become her chief. He showed her around the station and led her to the Roll Call room and left her there, where several officers were already sitting and doing paperwork. A ridiculously good-looking officer was snickering as he came into the Squad Room. He was pointing to a paper bag he held in his other hand.

  Whoa! Hottie McHot!

  The officers laughed at his paper bag and one officer admonished, “Don’t do it Toomey! Sarge will shoot you with your own gun.” More laughter.

  Toomey pulled something out of the paper bag and taped it under the podium at the front of the room and scurried to his seat, casually noticing Charlie. “Ride-along?” he asked.

  “Um yea, yes Sir,” she sputtered.

  “Oh, you picked a great day to be here, kid!” Officer Toomey laughed. “Officer Ross Toomey, ma’am. Single. I like fast cars, fast motorcycles, and fast women.” Charlie sat there with her mouth half open and looked behind her. Was he talking to her?

  An older leathery looking officer growled, “She’s from the high school, you twit!” Hey! Charlie thought. Twit? That’s my word.

  “High school, huh?” Toomey winked. “So? I won’t tell if she doesn’t!” More laughter. Toomey ran back up to the podium and added another piece of tape to the underside of the podium and then ran back to his seat next to Charlie. He looked at her and held a finger to his lips. “Shhhhh.”

  Were these guys drunk? For the next ten minutes they insulted each other, called each other “homos, station rats, and skates” and threw wads of paper at each other. It was like being in study hall—in the Bronx. A total of eight officers were in place when an officer with stripes on his sleeves strode in and took the podium. Everyone immediately settled down except for Officer Toomey, who was still suppressing a giggle.

  “Toomey, what the fuck are you up to?” the sergeant said, with no regard for the seventeen-year-old guest in the room.

  “Me? Nothing, Sarge.”

  The sergeant was a nice-looking man, tall classic features, older but clearly handsome in his day. The lines that ran across his face were a reflection of age and stress but he was still handsome and it made Charlie think fondly of Mr. Daley. The sergeant began roll call.

  “Okay, we got a complaint about speeders on Delray again. Goddammit, this is the third time this month! Hoard, you’re killing me. Deal with this would you? Goddammit, where’s Hoard?” he barked as he looked around the room.

  The old leathery officer spoke up. “She’s off tonight, Sarge,” said Officer D. M. Thompson. He had been pretty quiet up until now, except for chastising young Mr. Toomey for flirting with a high school student.

  “What?” the sergeant raised his voice again.

  “The leave slip’s been in your box for a week and you signed it so don’t start humping my leg,” Officer D. M. Thompson said. He stuffed the unlit cigar back in his mouth.

  “One damn split-tail on the squad and she’s gonna take off the night we have a female ride-along? Well that’s just great.”

  Toomey started to speak up to volunteer but Officer Thompson cut him off. “I’ll take her,” Thompson said without looking up.

  Oh shit. Not him. Not him! I want the hot guy!

  “Okay. Thanks, Thompson. Miss, you’ll be riding with Officer Thompson tonight, you lucky, lucky girl.” More laughter, from everyone except Charlie, who smiled uncomfortably. Officer Toomey stood up and walked to the podium. “Speaking of leave slips Sarge, you haven’t signed my leave slip for that motorcycle race next week.” As Toomey slid the leave slip in front of the sergeant, he held a lighter in the other hand and lit whatever he had hidden under the front of the podium. Toomey quickly grabbed the signed paper and scurried back to his seat.

  “You’re going to kill yourself in that damn race, Toomey. I don’t know why you young bucks have to . . .”

  POP! POP! POP! What the . . . ?

  The sergeant stepped back and put his hand on his gun.

  POP! POP! POP!

  The room erupted in smoke and hysterical laughter as the string of firecrackers continued to pop under the podium. Once Charlie realized what was happening, she couldn’t contain herself. She covered her mouth with her hand, not sure she should be laughing along.

  “Goddamn it, Toomey!” The sergeant yelled as he waved the smoke away and without missing a beat, threw a set of keys at Toomey, hitting him in the head while he was doubled over with laughter. Toomey picked the keys up and looked at the tag that hung on the keychain.

  “Not 455! Oh come on Sarge, it was just a joke. Please don’t make me drive the widow- maker!” “Toomey! 455!” the sergeant repeated, “and B13 is your beat!”

  “What?! Not the pit!! Please Sarge! Have mercy!! Don’t assign me to the pit!”

  Toomey pleaded while the other officers were laughing so hard there were tears rolling down their cheeks, except for Officer Thompson who chewed his unlit cigar and muttered under his breath, “Assholes.”

  The Sergeant continued with the car and police beat assignments and ran down the wanted list. Yawn, thought Charlie. Landon is boring. She couldn’t wait for this night to be over. The firecr
acker thing was funny and Officer Toomey was very cute, but then there was D. M. Thompson. Ten hours in a car with this cigar-smoking grouch. Maybe she would fake a stomachache and Officer Thompson would sign off on her paperwork.

  “Let’s go, kid,” he barked as he walked past her. She quickly followed and had to double time it to keep up with him.

  “Where’s the fire?” she joked as she caught up.

  “I’m no station rat!” he grumbled, “and I’m damn sure no fucking fireman. Humph! All brawn, no brains! Fucking heroes.”

  Charlie chuckled thinking about the day she spent at the local fire department. Officer Thompson was so right. Not the brightest bulbs in the chandelier. He opened the police car doors front and back, pointed to the passenger side and directed her to sit.

  “Woof!” she replied and she couldn’t be sure, but she thought she could see him suppressing a grin. “And don’t touch anything,” he snapped, composing himself and putting his stern face back in place. She watched as he checked out the police cruiser, walking around it, turning on all the lights and checking them to make sure they all worked and then searching the back seat.

  Curious, Charlie asked, “Do you have to drive a different police car every night?” Officer Thompson chose that exact moment to test the siren, causing Charlie to jump out of her skin.

  “Jesus Christ!” she screamed when he cut the siren sequence off.

  “Sorry, I guess I should have warned you,” he grinned.

  “We’ll play twenty questions once we’ve hit the road. I’ll get hives if I stay at the station too long. Too many goddamn white shirts and suits. Assholes.”

  Officer Thompson finally got in the driver’s seat and said into the police radio mic,

  “Unit 257 on duty.”

  “10-4 Unit 257 1626 hours,” a sexy voice replied.

  “Oh, thank God it’s Jan,” Thompson said, mostly to himself. “Okay Brown Eyes, what was your question?”