by JA Lafrance
Turning my head, I reached for the door handle to get out but stopped when I noticed an older male parked beside me with his head slanted, and his eyes closed, sitting in the front passenger seat. He looked to be approximately my father’s age. I stepped out and knocked on his window. He was unresponsive, and his chest didn’t appear to be moving so I didn’t think he was sleeping. I pulled his door’s handle, but it was locked so I walked around to the driver’s side window to get a better look at him, knocked on it a little harder and gave the handle a tug. The weather was hotter than usual for a spring day with temporary rising temperatures this week. I knew we would see a lot more of these types of situations, of people being left in vehicles with the windows up.
I knocked a third time, and still, he remained unresponsive even after calling out to him. “Sir, I am a police officer, and your doors are locked. Are you okay?”
Nothing.
“Sir, if you don’t respond, then I will assume you are in need of emergency assistance and will break this window. Sir, can you please talk to me?”
I walked back over to my patrol car to call for help on the radio inside, but the handle wouldn’t pull to open. Ah, fuck! The door locked, and I left my keys sitting in the ignition. I was in a hurry to get to the man that I forgot to grab my keys. I didn’t think the door had locked itself. I pulled the handle again, but it was definitely locked. I reached for my side radio then fell to the ground.
A light flashed into my eyes and woke me up from what felt like a nap. When my eyes fully opened, I looked around and found myself sitting in my patrol vehicle, driver side door open, with two paramedics shining a flashlight into my face that burned my eyelids in combination with the sunlight. I moved my hand to shield the heat from my face, but they’d cuffed my wrist to the steering wheel.
“Why am I handcuffed? What did I do wrong?” I ordered.
One paramedic turned off the flashlight and smiled. “You did nothing, Officer Clary,” he explained after reading the badge on my uniform. “While you were attempting to help the gentleman asleep in the vehicle next to your patrol car, two idiots thought it would be funny to hit you on the back of the head, knock you out, then cuff you to your own vehicle.”
“My keys are—”
The paramedic interrupted and kindly assured me, “You never left your keys in your vehicle, Officer Clary.” He smiled again. “The goons we have in custody opened the door and staged the scene to distract you.”
I raised my brow at him. “The man was asleep? But his chest wasn’t moving, and I knocked on the windows pretty hard.”
The paramedic confirmed, “The man wasn’t part of the distraction, he is old and a very heavy sleeper. We actually advised him to take a sleep apnea test when he decided not to go to the hospital. There probably wasn’t any snoring, either.” He uncuffed my wrist and returned my keys.
I adjusted my glasses by the arms to lift them from falling off my face by the handle. The arm of my glasses twisted then broke off from the frames entirely. I sighed and watched my partner snicker as she parked on the other side of me. I refrained from giving her the finger, but my face showed all I wanted to say.
“Things happen in threes,” she called out.
Before I could jinx myself and remind her that isn’t true, that things usually happen in fours, Dr. Jack Masan walked toward my patrol car. He held a brown paper bag with the sub sandwich restaurant logo on it.
I watched as he sauntered closer with his contagious smile.
“They had no problem remaking your lunch,” he exclaimed.
I reached for the bag, but a stabbing pain at the back of my head pulled me back. “Ow!” I hissed.
“Don’t move, Jessa!” He dropped the bag on my lap, rushed to the ambulance. They all ran back to shine more lights into my eyes. Dr. Masan squatted and placed his hand gently behind my head under my hand and waved them to cut the light. “Move slowly. You may have a concussion.” He looked at the paramedics and showed them his opened wallet. “I’m a doctor. May I?” They nodded and stepped aside. He wanted their approval before taking over a patient.
He moved in closer to check my pupils. His eyes softened, and he smiled again. Obtaining a small pin from the paramedics, he poked at my hands, arms, and legs to make sure I could feel before allowing me to stand, and I busted into nervous laughter.
He chuckled. “Ticklish? I’m just worried. Are you all right?”
“Yeah, but kind of embarrassing,” I answered. “Glad you called me Jess and not Officer Clary.”
“Eh, I’ve seen worse in the E.R.” His hand slid down, and he began to play with the strands of my hair. I didn’t want him to stop. His touch was so tranquilizing.
“I’m sorry,” he said, moving his hand to his lap.
“Spoken like a true Canadian,” I joked.
“Funny! I hadn’t realized how soft your hair is. I mean, I hadn’t touched it before, but you know what I mean. Hopefully.” His cheeks flushed.
He didn’t seem as embarrassed as I was, though—a police officer getting jumped then handcuffed with her own cuffs to her patrol car.
“Thank you, Dr. Masan.” I grabbed the brown bag, still hot, and stepped out of the vehicle.
“Less formal, please, just call me Jack. And here, let me help you.” He reached out his hand, stood, then held my hand, allowing me to use him as a crutch as I lifted myself from the seat. “It’s all right, I sanitized my hands.”
I laughed and wished he hadn’t broken the moment. What a time in life where we have to worry if someone’s hands were clean before getting close, especially a crush. This was the new norm, and I had to get used to it sooner rather than later. Good hygiene was sexy, but I would never have wondered if a man used sanitizer before touching my hair or my hands.
“Alright, just Jack. Lunch?”
Jack grabbed a second brown bag from the hood of a black truck behind him. “Absolutely. What better way to keep an eye on you and make sure you’re okay?” He winked.
The paramedics gave me the clearance to leave. I couldn’t wait to feel Dr. Jack Masan’s hands all over me.
Chapter 4
Free. I couldn’t begin to think of how I felt with the warm breeze blowing through my hair and kissing my flesh as we surged onto the back roads. I stopped trying to hold my hair out of my face and allowed the wind to mess it up, but I slipped my hands into my dress pockets to hold it down. My only dress had pockets! Jack drove me home after I parked my patrol car so I could change. The black truck had been his, and I had laughed at the sight of him just using a random hood as a tray for food, or snagging someone else’s lunch. It would have given me a reason to cuff him.
I didn’t need any more embarrassing moments today, but Jack wouldn’t tell me where he was taking me, and I didn’t do well with surprises. We were definitely going on a date, and I couldn’t be happier. All that mattered was we were together. Wherever Jack was taking me, it seemed isolated enough to keep our distance from others, and we didn’t have to quarantine inside.
The truck slowed down, then Jack merged onto another empty dirt road before parking off to the side. He took out the keys from the ignition and put them in his pocket as he turned to look my way. He just stared. I laughed and waited for him to make a joke about how I should remember my keys.
I brushed all of my hair out of my face and lost myself in another moment with him. “What? Do I have something on my face?”
“Stunning. Jessa, do you know how beautiful you are?” His words caught me off guard.
I was glad Jack liked my dress, an old blue thing I had hanging up in my closet for at least a year that had never faded or wrinkled. I hoped he was staring at my lips, which were shiny lip gloss. I didn’t know how to dress up for a date, though, I did pretty well with what I had. But beautiful?
I licked the sides of my lips as if mayo was left from my sandwich. “Is it off?”
“No, nothing is on your face. I finally have a moment to take you in. All of you
. Away from chaos.”
Jack was a big city doctor. His clean dark blue jeans and button shirt were clean and tidy, but he knew the back roads and perfect spot for a date, so it was obvious he could also be a country boy. A romantic one at that.
“One sec.” He jumped out of the truck, but before shutting the door, he said, “Close your eyes.”
Tempted to peek, I didn’t. “I promise.”
Jack slammed the door and nearly caught his fingers. I still didn’t peek when I heard him curse, and I tried not to laugh at his expense. I hoped for the sake of my sanity that nothing went wrong.
Jack made me feel like a teen again, all dressed up for a first real date or ready for prom… Before I could finish my thought, the driver door opened, and music played low before the door shut again. His footsteps crunched in the gravel, moving toward my door.
Jack walked around the front of the truck, opened my door, and held my waist. “Okay, open your eyes, Jessa.”
I looked around the open fields. It was finally quiet. “Where are we?”
“Alone.” He leaned in for a kiss, and I gave in without hesitation.
Nothing much compared to kissing someone for the first time, someone you’d wanted for such a long time. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him in for a deeper kiss.
After what felt like another timeless moment between us, he helped me out of the truck. He led me by my hand, fitting perfectly in his, and took me to the truck bed. Jack organized blankets, pillows, and a brown basket that sat in the middle. Grabbing my waist, he lifted me up while I looked around in amazement, and he climbed up after me, slouching against some pillows. Large fairy lights lined the truck bed, lighting up our space. I lifted the basket lid and found some whole strawberries dipped in chocolate. Jack reached for one and fed it to me. Taking a bite, careful not to drop it, I could smell the tarty aroma as the chocolate swirled with the sweetness over my tongue. I shared the flavour by pressing my lips to his.
I laid back into his arms and rested my head on his chest, not noticing until now that the sun had fallen quickly. Calm and quiet. And when I stared up at the sky…only in the darkness, could you see the stars.
He spoke softly, “You’re stuck in isolation with me when work isn’t a priority. I’m not going anywhere, beautiful.”
I peered up at him and slipped my hand into my pocket, pulling out my cuffs. “I’m so glad you said that because it’s your turn, Dr. Jack Masan.” I winked.
About Crystal St. Clair
Crystal St. Clair is a busy mom who lives in the multicultural country of Canada. She does not live in an igloo, but would love to own a pet beaver who loves maple syrup and pancakes!
Crystal works many jobs but would love to one day become an Author full time, writing novels for adults and younger generations.
She can often be found playing soccer with her children while their dog steals the spotlight! She loves making others laugh, writing poetry and other inspiring stories. Once upon a time, Crystal played Momma Bear in a Middle School production of The Berenstein Bears and wrote her first A grade children's story that sparked her creative writing interest.
Aside from fulfilling her longtime dream and calling as an author, Crystal enjoys helping her community as a volunteer for charitable organizations such as, Canine Connect A Care Rescue, Boys' and Girls' Club of London Ontario, and many more. She was also a proud sponsor member of Plan Canada–I Am A Girl Foundation, helping empower girls to break the cycle of poverty for themselves and their communities. Through anthologies and individual sales Crystal's inspiring words have spread awareness and raised money for causes such as human trafficking and Alzheimer's.
As one of the leading founders of the Ignite Your Soul Author Event, Crystal has helped lead a team to raise proceeds for Bereaved Families of Southwestern Ontario, Wounded Warriors Canada, and National Service Dogs.
https://authorcrystalstcla.wixsite.com/inspireme
Just One Night
Geri Glenn
Just One Night
I pull up in front of the old tavern and take in the crowd of people standing around outside. Our entire province had been placed under social isolation for months now and all of our bars were the last thing to open. This large group of people standing so close together is a sight that almost feels foreign to me. My brain has yet to break from the mindset of social distancing and I’m not sure that will ever change.
Bikers and scantily clad women are draped over motorcycles and leaning against the wooden banister of the patio, smoke rising into the air in graceful plumes. I’ve never been to this place before. This isn’t exactly the type of bar a stay-at-home mom from the suburbs frequents. But tonight, I’m not a stay-at-home mom. I don’t have to worry about home-schooling or breaking up arguments over whose turn it is to play on the iPad. For tonight, I’m a sexy, badass woman looking for an evening of freedom and excitement after months of doing nothing but be a super-parent and sleep, unable to socialize for fear of risking the health of myself, my family. Tonight, I’m burying the real me as deep as I can get her, and eager to experience what it’s like to be someone else.
I got married right out of high school to the only boy I’d ever loved. We were each other’s first everything. First crush, first kiss, first time. Hell, even first dance. I’d had no first that didn’t include Jeremy.
When people hear our story, they often marvel at the wholesomeness of it all. The boy meets girl, boy gets girl, boy and girl live happily ever after part of it is a sweet story. It’s also getting old. Boring.
Taking a deep breath, I gather my nerves and swing my leg over the seat of my brand new Kawasaki Vulcan, sliding my helmet off. The motorcycle had been a gift from my husband after realizing just how much I loved to drive his. For my birthday, he’d gifted me with this beautiful ride, and I take every child-free opportunity I have to put it through its paces, though it’s been ages since I’ve done it.
Reaching up, I run my fingers through my hair, puffing up the curls my helmet had flattened. I lean forward and take one last look in my side mirror, double checking that my makeup still looks right. I apply another coat of lip gloss, even though I don’t really need to. I’m stalling. I know I’m stalling. I’ve never done anything like this before, and I know that once I step foot inside that bar, there will be no turning back.
The music thumps. Laughter pours through the propped open front door as I climb the wooden steps. Inside, throngs of people are gathered together in groups both big and small, all of them drinking, laughing and dancing. Everyone seems to be having a good time.
Approaching the polished wood counter of the bar, I motion for the bartender. “Gin and tonic, please,” I say. With a grin and a nod, he taps the bar with his knuckles and sets off to make my drink and I turn, taking in the Friday night festivities. I don’t recognize a soul in the room, and that’s a good thing. I don’t know how I would explain being here, dressed like this, to someone wondering where Jeremy is. Nobody would understand.
The bartender places my drink on the bar behind me and when I reach for my wallet, he holds up a hand. “It’s been taken care of,” he says, pointing down the length of the counter to a handsome man in a leather biker cut, whose eyes are pinned on me.
Feeling a shy heat creep across my skin, I hold the glass up in thanks and take a sip. The liquid barely touches my lips when a husky voice speaks into my ear, his warm breath fanning my hair and causing goosebumps to race across my flesh.
“You have an admirer.”
Looking back over my shoulder, I take in the gorgeous man standing so close, his unnaturally blue eyes pinned on me. Smirking, he tilts his head toward the man at the end of the bar, who now sits watching us with a frown on his face.
“Just one of many,” I reply, trying to appear coy and praying my nerves aren’t showing in my expression.
He reaches out and pulls the glass from my hand, his finger skimming across mine and sending a shiver through my body. “Let me bu
y you a new one.”
He doesn’t wait for a reply as he turns to the bartender, holding up two fingers. I take advantage of his momentary distraction and take him in. He’s tall. At least a foot taller than my five foot three. His dark hair is unruly in the most delicious, I want to run my fingers through it kind of way. The stubble on his chiseled jaw surrounds his full lips, telling me he hasn’t shaved for several days.
His dark grey Henley is taut across large biceps and a wide chest, but that’s as far as I get in my perusal before his attention is back on me. “What’s your name, gorgeous?”
Laughter bubbles up and past my lips before I can stop it. I know it’s a come on, but tonight I just don’t care. I want to be his ‘gorgeous’. I want him to hit on me. He’s not going to have to work too hard. He stares back at me expectantly, waiting on an answer. Shit. My name. “Ummm … Chrissy,” I stutter, giving the first name that comes to mind. I can’t tell him my actual name. I’m not me tonight.
He arches a brow, his steel-blue eyes assessing me as he takes the fresh drinks off the bar. “Well, Chrissy,” he drawls, his tone telling me he knows damn well I didn’t give him my actual name. “You can call me Jake.”
I reach out, accepting the glass and grin. “I can, can I? What does everyone else call you?”
He chuckles, the glass just about to his lips and tilts his head to the side. “Not Jake.”