by Kerri Ann
Last night feels like a dream. No, it’s more like a nightmare with a dreamlike ending. Smelling myself, I take in the raspberry and soft vanilla cream that coated my body, and it makes me think of him. I laugh at myself for smelling my own skin, but I’m trying to pull in a memory that has no place in today. Today, I have an appointment with the LA court, and today, I’ll be dealing with the consequences of my carelessness.
Showering, dressing, and feeling presentable, I traverse down the stairs. Hearing the girls as they chat in the kitchen, more than likely giving Cassidy a rundown of my demise from last night, the total sum of their conversation seems to be centered on my savior.
“Who the hell was he? I’ve looked through the pictures from last night—”
“Honestly, does it really matter? He was wicked man candy.”
“Did you see how he handled her like she was just a blow up doll.” A side of snickers went around the table at the double innuendo Doll comment.
“Sure, but Trellis and him? That was tense. I’m not sure I want to know how those two know each other.”
Even as I want to be involved in this ruckus, I enter quietly.
“Hey, sweetness. Come on over. We had Cassidy make you some of your favorites,” Hallette says sweetly.
Pulling out a chair from the breakfast bar for me, Cathryne asks, “How are you feeling?”
“I’m better, Catty.” All of them are walking on eggshells, afraid to set me off, I know it.
Picking up an orange slice, I nibble and suck the sweetness off my fingers as it dribbles down. I’m relaxed, knowing my girls are here to help me through this. Peeling the pulp with my teeth, I place the rind on the plate and pick up a slice of toast.
“What are your plans today?” Looking at each of them, I take in their silence and stares.
“Did you think we’d leave you to deal with the pending incarceration alone?” Harlow procures my now sticky knife, dragging her finger along the edge and licking it off. “No, darling. We’re not idly standing by while you get measured for your new orange jumpsuit.”
“Harlow!” Everyone yells in unison.
She giggles at the admonishment and spins the swivel chair in circles like we’ve always done for as long as I can remember. Her long flowing hair sweeps around her face, catching her lip gloss. Leave it to her to find the light in any darkness.
“What? I’m just saying the same thing that the rest of you are thinking. The only difference is that I’m using my outside voice.”
“Harlot. I don’t need anyone walking on eggshells because of me. I’ve never been breakable, and I don’t intend on starting today.” Biting my toast, I wink at her and wait for the ensuing grin. When trouble finds me, it’s normally with Harlow in tow, or vice versa. I’d say ninety-nine percent of my childhood incarceration was care of Harlow Anne Palente.
Taking a few more bites, the conversation switches to nonverbal cues, asking with their eyes about how they think I’m doing. Their random thoughts are like air bubbles floating by.
“Harlow’s right,” I say, entreating each of them. “If I couldn’t handle what was going on last night and today’s newest fight, do you think my ass would be down here eating toast? No. I’d be upstairs, sequestered under my fluffy blankets, sucking my thumb and crying until you needed to medicate me again. By the way, thank you. I appreciate what you did to get me out of there without a video montage at NBC.”
Harlow shrugs her shoulders in answer and Catty smiles, knowing she did right by me. Hallette hugs me.
“We love you wickedly, CD.”
“I know.” Returning to my toast, I drizzle a bit more honey on the remaining bits before I suck back on my coffee, watching the interactions. Clearing the counter to avoid all conversations about men, Cassidy stays quiet. I bet she’s afraid I’ll bring the girls into the whole Ciccero date night. Honestly, I’ll wait to ask further when there are less opinionated ears around.
“Soooo,” Hallee drawls out. “That guy was hot.”
Rolling my eyes, I sink into the toast without another thought. I’m avoiding all conversations that deal with Mr. Universe Mason.
“Let’s not talk about him. He was nice and helped me out last night, but don’t forget he’s the one who assisted in my impending incarceration.”
“He seemed genuinely interested in making sure you were taken care of, CD.”
“I know, Hallee. Problem is, he’s the enemy. Right?”
“As enemies go, I’d let him be my enemy any day. That boy was hot, and he carried you around like a prize.” Sticking out her hands as if she’s waiting to be cuffed, Hallette has a gleeful look of mischief. “Arrest me officer, please. If she doesn’t want you, I’ll take you graciously. I’m sure I could put those cuffs to use.”
“The cuffs weren’t that much fun, honey. I wouldn’t recommend them, or the accommodations that came with them either.”
“I think you need to give that boy another shot.”
“And how, pre-tell, do you expect me to get his phone number?”
“9-1-1?”
“Really? Not happening, lover. I am not getting arrested to grab the cop’s phone number.”
Slamming her hands down on the counter, Harlow attempts to look serious. “If a strip search by him is part of the arrest, I’m in.” I can’t help but laugh. Even though my mind has drifted off to Officer Mason conducting a strip search, I reach for the freshly filled coffee urn that sits in the middle of the table. Refilling my cup and bringing my mind back to the present, I’m reminded that when I leave here, I’m off to the county jail. Officer Mason needs to be the last thing on my mind.
Muttering into her cup, Hallette giggles. “She’s thinking about it.”
As I pour my milk absentmindedly, almost spilling it across the countertop, I blush. “Ah, hell no. There’s nothing I can do about the good officer, Hallee. He’s not attainable, and I have bigger fish to fry. Let’s keep on task, sex fiend.”
“I am. I’m only thinking about your needs, and he’s something you need to sample at least once.”
RISEN
“Where’d you go off to last night, asshole?”
Closing the door to my locker, avoiding Riggs, I do my best not to get into a confrontation. “There was a security issue at the back of the hall.”
Aloof and sarcastic, the prick taunts me. “Huh. That’s funny, because the Chief doesn’t see it like that.”
Why? I could understand if something went wrong, it would garner the attention of the captain, but Chief Scott? I didn’t fuck up, so there’s no way there’s an issue.
Turning to Riggs, even though he’s not entitled to my evening’s activities, I find myself intrigued, wanting to find out what he knows. “What the fuck are you talking about, fucknuckle?”
Being his usual cocky self, Riggs pulls the towel from around his waist, rubbing it against his damp hair. “Nothing really, I guess. When I walked by the office this morning, I heard him screaming about some shit that went down last night.”
Watching as Riggs rewraps the towel around his skinny ass, he starts to walk away. I yank at his arm, halting his exit. “What did he say that makes you think something was wrong?”
Shrugging in that way that only the prick does so well, he smirks. “Look, Mason. He was pissed about a story in the paper. He said he wants you to go see him directly.”
He held that info back? Couldn’t he have told me that first? What a fuckstick! He’s such a cocky motherfucker. It makes me want to punch him to a bloody fucking pulp for holding back that the chief wants to see me.
Calmly, I walk toward my locker, ignoring his snideness, trying to keep my cool. “I’ll go see him then, I guess.” Last thing I want is Riggs thinking he got a rise out of me, even though I find it hard to ignore him.
Throwing my running gear in the locker, I grab my shower kit and start toward the showers. There’s no fucking way I’m going to see Chief Scott smelling like a gym bag.
Passing throug
h the communal showers, a few guys say hi, smirking and laughing. One or two of the older guys give me a head nod or a quick greeting as I pass by. We know the one’s closest to the front run cold, and as I make my way down to the end, Trevor’s there, just finishing up.
“Here, take this one. The water pressure and temp are actually good today.”
Stepping past his naked ass, I ignore his junk. “Morning to you too.” Placing my hand in the stream, I test the water. These fucking things are temperamental, and the last thing I need this morning is to get scalded. Slinging my towel over the top, I close the curtain as Trevor’s towelling off. “You hear anything about last night, or see anything in the papers?”
“Nah. I left pretty late last night. Headed straight home and fuckin’ crashed. The dead couldn’t have woken me. Why you ask?”
“Fuckin’ Riggs said something about the chief. There was something in the paper and he’s pissed.”
Checking that the water is warm enough, I step in, letting it cascade over my steamed body. The cold shower last night, the middle of the night, and this morning did nothing to help calm my fucking cock. Fuck. I need to clear her from my mind. Having my dick get hard in a locker room full of men won’t go over well. All I could smell was the raspberry desserts, her vanilla sweet perfume, and whatever it is she showers with. It was driving me fucking nuts, and don’t even get me started on how her green eyes with tears broke me into a million pieces. The strong, independent, fearless rider was a total mess of emotions, and all I could do was hold her. I hope it helped.
Setting her in the car, seeing her curling up in her friend’s lap, I wished it was mine. Not to mention, Trellis. Hopefully, we won’t cross paths anytime soon.
It’s bad enough she’s been on my mind since the day I arrested her. Finding her so weak in my arms, holding her tight like she was mine to hold, her despair crushed me. Watching her break bit by bit on stage, I found myself walking to her like she called me by name. Through the sea of faces, asking me to be there to save her, I moved inch by inch until I was there.
Letting the temperate water course over me, I think about last night. What could’ve ended up in the papers that would have the chief wanting to see me? We did everything we could to make sure that fundraiser went off without a hitch.
Did a slimebag get a picture? When? I was vigilant about checking credentials, making sure only those that were allowed were given access to the Petersen. Did one of the assholes with permission somehow snap a photo of something? Was it just some punk with a camera phone that uploaded it to media? Did they sell it to the papers?
Either way, I’m truly fucked. I always worry about my job. I always worry about my family’s perception of my goodness, and how I can change my fate from what I’d done. Sometimes I think I should just give in and be what I am, instead of what they expect.
Damn, this is dangerous.
When did China Crown become more important than my career?
RISEN
“Chief Scott will see you now, patrolman.” Glinda, his secretary says formally.
I rise from the rickety wooden chair with a resounding creak. Knocking solidly on the door before entering his domain, I’m scared shitless of what he wants. If there was anything I could do to avoid this meeting, I bloody well would. If the small measure of knocking loud and proud would assist me in my fate, in effectively prolonging the inevitable death of my career, then I’ll do it too.
“Come in.”
Taking a deep breath in, I turn the handle and step forth. Sitting at his desk with the chair turned around, facing the bank of windows, Chief Scott is looking out at the bustling E 1st Street.
He ignores me, as if I’m a fly in the ointment. “Take a seat,” he says without turning his chair.
Fuck, this really is going to hurt like hell. Feeling my ass warming from the whipping I’m about to receive, I pull on the steel and leather armchair. As the quietness ticks down, second by second. It’s so bad, I can hear his chair creak as he adjusts. The waiting is killing me. I want to say something, to start the dialogue, but at the same time, I’m hoping he doesn’t say a single fucking word.
After a bit, I find myself venturing a look out at the same view of E 1st Street as he is. Its inhabitants move about their day without a worry about me and my job. When the first time danger affects them, I’ll be the most important person in their lives. Do they care that I would take a bullet for them?
Nope.
“You know, this would break his fucking heart—my partner, my best friend. He’d be…” Still not looking my way, he leans on the windowsill, peering down on the world below.
“When everything went down with you...” He pauses. “Let’s not get into that. Sufficed to say, once he mentioned you wanted to be a police officer, I did my best to push for you to be a part of LA’s finest, to have another generation of Mason’s working in our ranks and in this precinct. I was fucking happy.”
And the shoe drops.
As the chief goes quiet again, I know this is definitely not my day. Silently awaiting my unavoidable dismissal, I’m expecting a ‘please turn over your gun and badge’ moment. I don’t want it, but I’m starting to feel it’s inevitable with this tight conversation.
“Just pull off the band aid, Chief.” It’s fucking killing me.
Turning his chair, Chief Scott’s expression is as bad as I’d expected. The first thing we all learned about the chief is that his voice never falters, even as it hides the devil lurking inside. His voice sounds the same, whether he’s talking to a mass murderer a grandmother. But his facial expression hides nothing. I’m used to the slight curve of his mouth from years of tender smiles. The crows’ feet from a soft set of laugh lines, all surrounding his bright and cheery steel blue eyes that twinkle. Those eyes show the relaxed overall composure that he has perfected. Today? Not so much. His reddened face indicates his blood pressure is sky high. His steel cut eyes look like pure granite. The laugh lines are deep, making his face seem like cracked leather, and the stern straight lips contain pressurized teeth that I’m almost sure grind away as he takes in the sight of me.
So I await my fate.
“Risen, I have a great deal of respect for your family. In the whole time you’ve been here, I hear that my brother has tried repeatedly to give you the benefit of the doubt. I heard about the arrest a few weeks back. You did well with that, son, but here’s my quandary. Last night, I heard you were given an opportunity to show us in the best possible light with an easy off hours security detail that was simple, even for you.” Again, he goes quiet as he leans across the desk, planting his elbows deep into the steel. I swear it groans in protest. “I felt that you would rise to the occasion without fault.”
Counting down the inevitable, I wait and wait.
“I’m only going to ask you once. What happened last night?”
Taking a deep breath, I answer. “I’m not sure what you’re asking, sir. We were very vigilant with the security detail. We made sure we checked all credentials—”
“Don’t,” he cuts in. Whatever the fuck it was we, or I, did last night, seems to be horrific.
“Don’t lie to me about last night.” Flipping over the Times, he tosses it across the desk. “The papers ran with it, and it’s quite a tagline.”
Cop a Feel. There, in color, wearing the most beautiful dress I’ve ever seen is China Crown, covered in raspberry panna cotta with me rubbing a white towel across her leg. I remember it in a different light, but I guess the asshole who shot the picture gets to spin it any way he wishes.
“Sir, would you care for the explanation, or will you condemn me by paparazzi trial?”
With a raised eyebrow and an overtly pissed look, I wait for him to speak. “Fine. Tell me what happened, Risen.”
Staying quiet the whole time I’m telling him what occurred, he listens to me, contemplating how to deal with me. Maybe he’s wondering what the hell to do with me now. Finding myself understanding the phrase silent as t
he grave, I know that if I continue, I’ll probably ruin everything, but I finish speaking my peace anyway.
“Sir, I feel sorry for her. With everything she’s been through lately, then to have this,” I hold the paper up, “plastered across the front page? It’s a fucking sideswipe.”
When Chief Scott finally speaks, this time it’s calmer, less dangerous, which is worse. Way worse.
“Risen, I know you’re not someone to enter into a situation where you would jeopardize integrity. You’re not malicious. So, that being said, I believe you were just assisting Miss Crown. I have to tell you, though, son, this looks bad for the department. I’m afraid I’m going to have to put you on suspension until this is cleared up.”
With his hand extending out across the cold steel desk, requesting my gun and badge, I peel it off my outfit and pass it over.
He places it inside his drawer with a resounding metallic thud. “I want you to take this time to consider your position here. Risen, look at your future in the LAPD. It’s not that I don’t want you here, please understand that. I need you to consider if this is the right path for you overall. Do you understand?”
Oh yeah, I understand. I’m either looking for a desk job or being pushed into inevitable early retirement from the force.
“I have no choice in this. Right, sir?”
“Sorry, son. This is as it is.” His mind is made up.
Rising from the chair, I salute the chief and exit without another word.
CHINA
My court appointment is scheduled for eleven forty-five in hall nine. The girls and I pulled in around ten, just to make sure I was ahead. Walking up to the establishment, I realize the courthouse is somewhere I’ve never had the privilege of visiting. Did I think I was better than the hordes of rapists, drug dealers, and hookers that I naively expect to visit here on a regular basis? Hell yes! But I was definitely naive. I didn’t expect this wild menagerie of clientele.
The halls are filled with mothers, fathers, men and women of all ages in ragged clothing, power suits, and comfy clothes. It shows they’re just here to fight a parking ticket, noise disturbance, custody battle, or jaywalking. Each are closed off from those they sit beside, checking their emails, playing games, talking or texting on their phones, blatantly ignoring the world around them.