by JA Lafrance
“Thanks, Molly. Depending on how tonight goes, I may take you up on that.”
“Date number three and you’re still having second thoughts? Or is it him?” A hushed wolf whistle eased from her pursed lips. “Though, I’ve gotta say, that boy sure does fill out a pair of jeans and those blue eyes can melt brick cheese but, if he’s stringing you on, let me know and I'll sort him out or get one of the boys to do it.”
She gave my hands a squeeze. “Not that I don’t think you can handle yourself but, in times like these, it’s good to have someone—”
“No, he’s fine...” The word fine twisted in my head as the source of the problem. Was fine good enough?
Molly was right. Roy’s a good-looking guy. If he was a fireman, he'd have his own month in their charity calendar, but he lacked that certain ummph! I needed to seal the deal. I'd spent hours thinking about it to the point of distraction but couldn't make that feeling go away.
“But sometimes fine just isn’t enough. Am I right?” said Molly as if reading my mind.
My head bobbed slowly in agreement. “Yeah...I guess this is a make or break kinda date.” It was the first time that thought had come to mind and, having said it out loud, was made real, made it a tangible scenario I could meet head on to find peace.
I nodded again. “Yeah, I think that’s it. It’s time to put up or shut up. See what he’s got and if he isn't—”
Molly snickered and that dirty grin was back. “See what he’s got, eh?”
My eyes rolled as I giggled. “You’re too much.”
“Sure am. Rode the hubby right into the grave—God rest his soul—but he loved every minute of it.”
Shock hit me. Molly’s a widow? I wondered. How did I miss that? How is it I didn’t know? She had a ring on her finger and, even though she didn’t speak much of him, I assumed she was just private about her marriage. “I’m so sorry, Molly. I...”
“Don’t be, sweetie. We had our time together and never wasted a second. I believe one day we’ll meet again, but until then, the money he left behind got this place going and keeps me close to him.”
“You must be proud of what you've done and surely he would be, too. I wish I could’ve met him.”
“You and so many other women. It’s how this place got its name—”
And that’s when I saw Roy standing by the edge of the booth next to Molly.
She was right.
His smile.
His eyes.
That dimple in his left cheek.
He was a package that stirred up every bit of fire in me and fueled multiple fantasies since I’d discovered him on the dating app. If pressed in hard questioning, I’d have to admit that I picked him before even reading his profile. Those eyes alone could make me do things that I—
Molly gave me a double-take and then her head spun back to see him.
She gasped and covered her mouth.
Roy’s hands swung up to his sides. “Excuse me. I didn’t mean to interrupt. Am I early?”
“Nope,” I said, glancing at the watch I’d already checked about a dozen times in the last ten minutes, “You’re right on time.”
Molly gave my hand a love tap and leaned in to whisper, “Here I am going on like some saucy floozy and you don’t tell me he’s hanging around?”
I giggled.
She leaned in even further, her busty bosom nearly resting on the table, and whispered, “If you decide three strikes and he’s out, you can send him trotting my way.” She lurched up with a laugh that drew all eyes to our booth and ignited scatterings of laughter and chuckles around the room.
Roy, the only one appearing to feel left out, stood in place with an awkward smile on his face.
Easing up from the seat, Molly said to him, “Come on in. Make yourself at home,” and he did, taking her seat, as she continued, “Iced tea, right?”
“Yes, please.”
She turned to me. “And a refill for you, Miranda?”
“Um, yes, please,” I said, sliding my coffee cup to the edge of the table.
“Perfect. I’ll be right back,” and Molly squish-squished away.
Roy sat back in his chair with a smile. “You two get along well, eh?”
I threw a glance over my right shoulder to the kitchen counter, my view partially blocked by the back of the booth. “Absolutely.”
“She’s got a lot of energy. Good energy.”
“Yeah, she does. She’s incredible.”
“Well, I appreciate you introducing me to this place.”
And that’s when it hit me, why I didn’t normally bring dates here. If I end this with him, he may still come around. Then I’ll have the awkwardness of bumping into him when I just want to come and get myself a stacked Montreal smoked meat sandwich as a late night craving or late shift meal.
Oh, Miranda, you stepped in it this time, raced through my head.
“You're welcome. After about seven years of coming here, it's pretty much become my little safe haven of solitude. The spot to just get away from everyone.”
“I can respect that. We all need that place where we can relax and just get our head right,” he said, removing his jacket and revealing the Beretta that’s been strapped to his hip for all three dates.
Whether it was the fact that our dating future was on the line or that I was already beyond hungry, I did what had been eating at me since we met—I asked the question. “You’ve got a permit for that, right?” Giggling, I tried to play it off as a joke but it all felt flat and false, making this one of those times I should’ve stopped that voice in my head from getting out in public.
“Of course,” he said with a smirk.
Was that a look of cockiness, or is he one of those guys who enjoys putting people off by carrying a weapon?
Roy nodded to the Glock at my side. “You?”
Trying to mimic him, smirk and all, I answered, “Of course.”
In unison we both closed that door with, “Good.”
A large percentage of those in our city are registered and licensed to carry owners but I was still waiting for the day when seeing someone else armed in public wouldn’t flip the switch on my training and put me into risk assessment mode. It didn’t matter what his dating profile said, he was still a stranger at this point and it’s the reason this would not be what Molly would consider a good, old-fashioned, traditional third date.
We sat in silence for ten to fifteen agonizing seconds before he cleared his throat and swallowed hard.
“I...” Roy started, and then focused his stare on me to try again. “I know it’s only been a couple days since I saw you and it’s not considered typical on a third date to make such a statement, but I’m a, um, straight shooter...” His eyebrows raised.
Clearly it was an attempt at humor. One that might have landed with me in other circumstances. Instead, I was unwilling to try another fake laugh, but, concerned about where this was going, I let it pass.
Then the shocked thought jolted my brain. Is he about to ditch me before I can ditch him?
When my laughter didn't come, he continued. “But I’ve been thinking a lot about you. About us. Even while at work, it’s been hard to focus.”
“On doing your security job, right?”
“Uh,” he seemed surprised by the question.
I realized it may have come from an inappropriate place and regretted it.
Roy shrugged it off. “Yes. And being distracted is dangerous, but I also think it’s for a wonderful reason. What I’m saying is...”
Knowing he had been thinking about me was a nice boost to my ego, but it was countered by the part of me that can’t stand to see someone suffer. “Thanks. I’ve thought a lot about this, too.”
He sat back, easing into his seat. “I’m so glad. It’s great that we could get together tonight, that’s all.”
“Agreed. Though I—”
Squish-squish. Molly returned. Pot of coffee in one hand, a large iced tea with a slice of lemon in the oth
er.
She glanced at me, then Roy. “Sorry to interrupt.” She filled my mug and placed his glass on the table. “I’ll disappear in a wink. You just holler for me when you’re ready to order.”
“Thank you,” answered Roy, as I said, “Actually, we may be ready—”
We looked at each other and chuckled.
Molly cocked an eyebrow at me. “You don’t say?”
“Y’know what?” said Roy. “I think I could order now,” and nodded my way. “Go ahead, Miranda.”
“Thanks. As I said, I’ll change it up and take the pastrami on rye with a side of fries.”
“And two pickles?” nodded Molly.
“Well, yeah. Some things are sacred.”
“And you, sweetie?” she asked Roy.
“Everything I’ve had so far has been great. I’ve loved it.”
I dreaded the inevitable “but” that was sure to follow.
Unlike me, Molly’s smile doubled. “Just one more reason we love having you here.”
“But—”
The sick feeling of being right and knowing someone is about to talk trash about something you love filled my stomach.
“Both times I left here thinking, I should’ve had that Montreal smoked meat that Miranda had. So, tonight, finally, that’s what I want, please.” Smiling, he lifted his drink into the air with a nod to Molly and me.
Molly grinned. “I’ll make it a double so you have a little to bring home with you.”
“Perfect. I’ll take it for lunch tomorrow and make the guys jealous.”
“That’s what I do,” I said, with a chuckle.
The moment Molly left, I had to ask, “So, those jealous guys...do you work with a big crew? I’ve never done security. Any time I’ve been to the mall or a bank and seen security on duty, it’s just one guy working solo. Do you—what shifts do you usually work? I’ve been getting crushed with a ton of extra time and I can’t imagine what it would be like to work a nine to five again. Y’know?”
It was curiosity and frustration getting the best of me. The original plan had been to avoid asking questions about work and exposing myself to that line of conversation, but I’d slipped. Come on, Miranda, head in the game.
His answer was slow coming.
He started out with a “Hmm” that was deep in his throat and drawn out.
Then moved on to fiddle with his straw before taking an extra long drink, until coming back with, “The hours vary based on need. I love my job, and the people I work with depend on me, so I hate to say no to any extra time. Believe me, I’d like a little more rest, but I didn't go into this blind. This job is how my parents met and they put in the hard hours until retirement.”
It was all I could do to stifle the look of disbelief and the questions forming in my head. In particular, A family of mall cops? Who’d ever heard of such a thing?
I’m far from perfect and pride myself on having respect for everyone, regardless of their job, but from the moment he told me that he worked security it stuck out in my mind and left me unsettled. Despite mulling it over at length, I couldn’t put my finger on why. There’s a significant need for security, heck, a lot of off-duty cops I know pull extra shifts as off-duty security, but...
Maybe that was our problem. Some inherent bias on my part. If so, that sucked. He’s a sweet, hard-working guy and I’m a snob. Or maybe I'm just jealous that he can live that life. One with much less on the line and hours that allow him to have a life separate from work.
If I missed anything while I was in my head, it appeared he didn’t notice, and had continued to explain his job to me. “Most of my time is spent solo, but everyone’s just a call away.”
He sat back, chin high, smile large, and folded his hands on the table.
As expected and greatly dreaded, he served it back to me. “How about you? I admit that I don't know much about doing community outreach for a living.” His eyes lit up with what I assumed was an epiphany although I prayed it was a change of subject. “You’re sure you didn’t mean community service, like someone who wound up on the wrong side of the law and is doing penance?” The delayed chuckle that followed suggested he was more serious than kidding.
“Hey, I would rock one of those prison rompers.”
Roy’s voice became all late night soul and silky smooth as he said, “Yes, I bet you would.”
I didn’t want to like it—but I did—and that put my guard up. “Nope, never me. Never the wrong side of the law. Would be hard to help the community if I did.”
The urge to just be honest welled up inside me. Just tell him, Miranda. What does it matter? It's unlikely we’ll see each other again. Hot looks and a sense of humor aren’t enough to make him Mr. Right. Plus, you’ll be doing him a favor by sparing him a life of trying to deal with a partner who's never really off the job.
Then my brain switched tracks and brought me back to keeping the secret. If he’s not the guy, there’s no reason to tell him.
The truth of the matter is that I’m darn proud to be a cop. I love it. People talk about a calling. A purpose. This is mine. It’s more than a job, it’s an extension of who I am.
It was never a lie to say I do community outreach. Every day the goal is to make a positive impact in at least one life each shift. Unfortunately, I’ve had to accept that what I do isn’t well-received by many people. Somehow we’ve become viewed as the bad guy. The days of people being attracted to a person in uniform are long gone if you wear the shield. Telling the wrong person would leave me vulnerable. I’d seen it happen too many times to both men and women on the force. It was one reason dating only other cops made sense, but that had always wound up creating its own set of problems. Dating a guy like Roy was the chance to find what others call a normal life. It’s also why so many of us kept the job under wraps until we were sure we’d found the right match.
“Y’know what, Roy? About my job...” My palms went sweaty and my mouth went dry.
Squish-squish. Molly appeared to my right with two mountainous sandwiches spilling meat onto what had to be classified as platters due to their necessary size.
I sighed with relief and covered up by turning it into a gasp of excitement that matched Roy’s at the wonderful sight and smell Molly was easily muscling our way.
“Such flattery,” said Molly, sliding the plates in front of us before stepping back to adjust her apron and give everything a look-over.
Roy drooled. “Amazing…”
“Always perfect,” I added.
“You’re too kind. Just remember, it’s always better to avoid making decisions on an empty stomach. Here’s hoping Meat’s meat can help make this third date the memorable event it should be.”
I chuckled as the words, “Meat’s meat” processed. I thought back to our earlier conversation. Wait, was she saying her husband’s name was—
Molly left for the kitchen.
Squish—
A shiver struck my back and rolled down into the soles of my feet as I waited for the sound to continue.
I looked to Roy. Now upright, slipping his jacket on, eyes focused to my right, just behind me, where I was sure Molly stood.
“Don’t panic,” whispered Roy, his lips barely moving like he was trying out a ventriloquist act, “everything will be okay.”
There was an arrhythmic and hurried shuffling of feet behind me.
A tray clattered to the floor.
A coffee cup crashed.
White ceramic shards and used silverware mixed in a puddle of coffee on the floor.
With a slow and concerted effort, I looked back over my shoulder to confirm what my head knew and heart feared.
Sure enough, slightly obscured by the booth, was Molly, her face pale as a ghost. A man’s arm, stained with what appeared to be cigarette burns, was wrapped tight around her neck with a wad of cash crumpled in his fist.
My adrenaline wrestled with years of training.
The urge to blindly leap in to save someone I cared about
met discipline and procedure.
I couldn’t see his face behind Molly’s head and it troubled me.
I needed to see his eyes. Read his intent. To connect and make everything okay—
Then I remembered. Roy!
I gave him a distinct, yet subtle, head shake.
“Don’t,” I whispered. “Let me.”
Calm and collected, he answered, “Trust me.”
I wanted to. More than anything I wanted to trust him. But he was someone I’d only known for a period of time measured in dates, not days.
Brief encounters of awkward and reserved conversations that almost exclusively took place in this deli.
A guy whose security training couldn't have prepared him for a situation quite like this. A guy who—this was Molly who needed help, and that was my duty.
“No,” the volume of my voice raised just a notch as the bass dropped, “trust me. Stand down, mall cop,” I countered.
A look of confusion flashed across his eyes and he returned that big beautiful smile whose charm made me see an innocence and feel greater concern for how this may turn out.
“Hey, buddy,” he said, rising to his feet, hands open and in front of his hips.
Molly gasped as the arm constricted around her neck and spun her to face Roy.
“Is there something I can do to help?” said Roy, his voice unwavering. “It’s a Friday night and I’m sure this can’t be the way you wanted to start the weekend.”
The man’s head appeared from behind Molly, covered in a faded blue ski mask with a torn out hole for his mouth.
His eyes were wide.
Bloodshot.
Darting from side to side.
They kept landing on Roy but seemed unable, or unwilling, to stay.
Judging by his lean and Molly’s body pushing out toward us, it was clear he had a weapon wedged into her back.
“Yeah,” I said, easing to my feet, hands opened and raised to distract the robber from Roy. “If you’re in need of money, you can have my purse. I’m on a date anyway and it's his turn to pay.”