Reunited by the Badge

by Deborah Fletcher Mello

  “I’ll be really happy when I can put my foot up Vivian’s...”

  Paul laughed. “Dial it back a notch,” he said stalling the expletive he knew was coming. “She’ll get hers. But we need to stay focused.”

  “I am focused. Clearly, she’s knee-deep in this and the fact that she was willing to throw you under a bus doesn’t sit well with me. She’s not going to get away with it.”

  “Let it go, Simone. Please!”

  “Do not tell me you’re going to give that woman a pass?”

  “Of course not! She’ll get what’s coming to her, I’m sure. But since we don’t know how she’s involved we can’t jump to any conclusions.”

  “You’re actually going to defend that witch?”

  “That’s not what I’m doing. Why are you getting so heated over this?”

  The look she was giving him was classic Simone, attitude-filled and unhappy about something. The mood between them suddenly did a nosedive. His frustration level increased tenfold. It was moments like this, going back and forth with her, that made him question what they were doing with each other. Doubt trickled like water from a leaky faucet and suddenly he found himself questioning if they’d ever get past the issues that had torn them apart previously.

  Paul’s defenses kicked into second gear. “I am not going to fight with you, Simone. I do not have the energy to do that song and dance you like to do when you’re feeling insecure about something.”

  “Insecure?” Her voice had risen a few octaves.

  Paul’s voice rose to match hers. “Yes, insecure. You get in your feelings and then you lash out. It’s Simone 101—if you can’t control it, it’s a fight. If you feel threatened, it’s a fight. Hell, even when it should make you happy, you make it a fight! And I don’t want to fight with you!”

  Simone sat with clenched fists, every muscle in her body hardened with ire. Her breathing grew labored. “You need to get back into the lab,” Simone snapped, her mind clearly spinning in a hundred different directions.

  There was an awkward pause that rose like a morning mist. Paul pulled onto the lengthy driveway, stopping when they reached the house. He shifted the car into Park and cut off the engine. Simone was staring out the window, her eyes narrowed, her jaw tight.

  “Simone? What are you thinking?” Paul questioned, reading her mood.

  “Nothing,” she muttered.

  “Simone?”

  “What?” She met the look he was giving her with one of her own, something like defiance spinning in her gaze.

  “Tell me what’s going through your head, Simone. You need to talk to me.”

  “Nothing! Why are you badgering me?”

  “Badgering? Really? I’m trying to figure out why you suddenly have attitude.”

  Simone rolled her eyes skyward. “I need to get back to work,” she snapped as she opened the car door and exited the vehicle.

  Paul watched her stomp to the door, her arms folded across her chest as she waited for him to come unlock it. Despite his own annoyance, a slight smile pulled across his face. Some things clearly hadn’t changed, and Simone’s short fuse was still short.

  * * *

  Hours later Simone poured salt-and-vinegar potato chips into a large glass bowl and white wine into a glass. The light was still on in the barn and she knew Paul had thrown himself into his research. She had pushed his buttons and then she had shut down, leaving him annoyed and anxious. It was a typical play out of their relationship handbook and once again Simone felt like she was dooming them both to fail. She stuffed a chip into her mouth as she headed down the hallway to lock herself back in the bedroom.

  Simone was feeling slightly foolish and she wasn’t quite ready to face Paul and apologize. She didn’t have any reason to be angry at him, yet she’d thrown every ounce of her frustration in his direction. It never made any sense before and it didn’t now. She needed to do better, yet she seemed unable to get past the bad behavior that had always been her downfall.

  The only time emotion didn’t rule her life was when she was in a courtroom. In front of a judge, Simone was always calm and collected, the epitome of professionalism. But once she stepped out the courthouse doors she was a simmering volcano and it took little for her to erupt. In her head, being quick to put others in their place, rage against the status quo, and just being a general pain in the ass masked what she was truly going on in her head. Being brash, aggressive, and keeping others an arm’s length away kept them from seeing her vulnerabilities and her weaknesses.

  She couldn’t begin to explain to Paul or anyone else how she sometimes felt inadequate and unworthy. Everyone loved to tell her what a great guy Paul Reilly was, and she was always questioning why someone like him would want her. She could be a handful most days: snarky, ill-tempered and contentious. She wasn’t sugar and spice and all the nice things the fairy tales said little girls were made of. She always felt like she wasn’t doing enough or being great enough, always falling short on an imaginary scale of her own making. Despite a public perception of her being attractive, intelligent and accomplished, and her parents constantly hammering how wonderful she was, she felt like an imposter in her own body.

  Living up to her parent’s expectations left little room for failure. She had big shoes to fill and with siblings who’d made it successfully to the finish line with few missteps, she couldn’t afford to be a disappointment. To them, or the man willing to take her on and love her. No amount of rationalizing every good thing she brought to their relationship stopped her from doubting her worth and when doubt set in, Simone lashed out and usually at Paul.

  After resting her popcorn and wine on the nightstand, she threw her body across the bed and reached for her cell phone. She dialed her sister’s number, taking a quick sip of her drink as she waited for the woman to answer her phone.

  “Hello?”

  “Vaughan, hey!”

  “My little sister the fugitive! How are you?”

  “That’s not funny, Vaughan.”

  “Actually, it’s hilarious! What’s not funny is that our parents are on the verge of divorce, arguing about what to do about you. Our father is ready to call in the cavalry.”

  “Would you please tell them I’m fine?”

  “Did Mom tell you there’s a warrant out for Paul’s arrest?”

  “Yes. She said they think he may have killed three of his patients.”

  “She exaggerated that a bit. A lot, actually. The hospital filed a report that they suspected he was in possession of files for three of his patients and they’ve not been able to reach him to question why. Plus, they’re concerned, because some FBI types in suits with badges have been there asking questions about him. But Parker did a little digging and the suits aren’t associated with law enforcement and their badges are fake. Then, when Daddy found out someone took a shot at you both, he issued a city-wide alert to bring Paul in for his own protection and to get you home.”

  “Does he always have to manipulate everything?”

  “Do you not remember who your father is? The superintendent for the entire Chicago Police Department, appointed by His Honor, the mayor, thinks his baby daughter might be in serious trouble. He’s going to manipulate everything he can personally control and some things he can’t. He’s even threatening to issue a warrant for your arrest. We’ve all been given explicit instructions to call him if you reach out to any of us. He tore Mingus a new orifice when he found out our brother helped you go off the grid.”

  Simone’s heavy sigh was tempered with a sudden case of the hiccups as she choked back tears. She was suddenly feeling very emotional and she couldn’t begin to explain why. Her family was worried about her, Paul loved her, and she was kicking herself for being ugly about a woman who didn’t matter one iota in the grand scheme of things. Everything that had happened since Paul had called her suddenly flooded her spirit and tw
isted her insides into tight knots. The deluge of emotion was overwhelming.

  “What’s wrong?” Vaughan asked, as if sensing her sister’s distress.

  “Mom and Dad really just need to chill,” Simone muttered. “I’m fine.”

  “Are you sure? Because you don’t sound like you’re fine.”

  “I picked a fight with Paul for no reason.”

  “That’s sounds like par for the course with you, Simone. Self-sabotage has always been your specialty.”

  “I didn’t call for you to be mean to me, Vaughan.”

  “Honesty is not mean, little sister.”

  “Whatever! He told me the other day that I was spoiled. And mean. And he dated this other woman while we were separated.”

  “Ohhh, so now we’re getting to the real reason for your call. Give me all the juicy details. But wait, let me pour myself a glass of wine first because this sounds like it’s going to be good.”

  Simone listened as her sister dropped her phone, still talking as she moved around her kitchen.

  “I’m coming... Hold on... Do not hang up... Okay, I’m back. Who is this woman Paul dated? Are they still together?”

  “Her name is Vivian Lincoln and she’s a medical sales rep for the drug company we’re investigating.”

  “Was it serious? Or just a casual fling?”

  “They went to see Hamilton together.”

  “Hamilton?”

  “Yes!”

  “The musical? In New York?”

  “Yes! And I met her and she’s this horrible person and just because I had a little attitude about it, Paul had the audacity to call me insecure.” Simone’s voice rose an octave. “There is nothing insecure about me!” she insisted.

  Vaughan didn’t bother to respond, complete silence coming from her end of the telephone line. The quiet was suddenly deafening, and for the briefest moment, Simone thought the cell service had dropped the call.

  “Hello? Vaughan? Hello?”

  “I’m still here.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I was waiting for you to say something I could agree with.”

  “I am not insecure!”

  “You have moments, Simone. Especially when it comes to Paul! So, why did you get all in your feelings about him dating this woman? You did dump him, remember?”

  Simone blew the faintest sigh, her voice dropping to a loud whisper. “You didn’t see her.”

  “Paul loves you, Simone. I can’t for the life of me figure out why you have never trusted that.”

  “He said the same thing.”

  “Well, you really need to think about it. And you need to think about why you’re always so bitchy toward him. Because most men would have been done with you by now. In fact, I’m starting to question why he puts up with you and your bad behavior.”

  “Paul Reilly loves me.”

  “Ding, ding, ding!”

  Simone laughed. “Okay! I get it.”

  “He deserves better from you, Simone. He’s one of the good guys and there is a long line of women who are chomping at the bit to take your place so stop playing games with him.”

  “I just can’t seem to get out of my own head.”

  “Well, only you can figure out what is holding you back. We can all tell you how great you are. How great Paul is. Paul can tell you over and over again what you mean to him. But ultimately, if you don’t believe it, then why should anyone else care?”

  Simone paused to reflect on her sister’s comment. Since they’d been little girls, her big sister had been her voice of reason. Vaughan had never hesitated to point out the error of Simone’s ways or to turn her around when she was headed off track. When Simone felt like a dim light in a room full of bright bulbs, Vaughan would push her to shine. The bond between them was irrefutable and even when Simone felt off-balance or completely lost, just talking to her sister brought her back to an even keel.

  “I need you to do me a favor,” Simone said.

  “Anything. You know that.”

  “Ask Mingus to find out everything he can on Vivian Lincoln. She works for Lender Pharmaceuticals but I’m not sure where she’s based out of.”

  “Will this help with the problem you two are trying to resolve? Or is this for your own personal vendetta?”

  “It’s not personal,” Simone said, sharing the details of her bathroom encounter with the woman. “I need to figure out who she’s connected to and why she’s gunning for Paul.”

  “What do you want me to tell Mom and Dad?”

  “I’ll call Dad when we’re headed back that way but until then, ask them to please call off the dogs.”

  “I’ll see what I can do. Just stay safe, please.”

  “I love you, sissy!”

  “I love you, too!”

  Disconnecting the call, Simone tossed the phone onto the nightstand and fell back against the pillows, debating whether she wanted to analyze her own shortcomings or ponder dryer lint while she waited for Paul to finish what he was working on and come back inside.

  * * *

  Paul paused in the back door that same night, listening to a playlist of love songs Simone had programmed into the sound system. He knew her better than she knew herself sometimes, and he knew she was feeling contrite about her mood swing and the tension that had bloomed like a brick wall between them.

  Her tantrums remained a bone of contention between them and he had come to acquiesce that he’d have to accept her moodiness if they were going to move forward. If he weighed her positive attributes against the negatives, her moments were well worth the heated arguments that always led them back to what was most important to them. Each other.

  Simone was a powerhouse and highly accomplished. She’d graduated magna cum laude from Western Illinois University and then summa cum laude from Harvard Law School. As a state prosecutor she was known to be a shark in Jimmy Choo stilettos and pristinely tailored designer suits. She served on multiple corporate boards, volunteered at the Boys and Girls Clubs of Chicago and was well-known in the community for her philanthropy, most especially where it served the issues and rights for women and girls. She was bold, sometimes brash and always brilliant.

  Success oozed from Simone’s fingertips. Everything she touched was gold. So, it completely baffled him that she was sometimes so doubtful about their relationship and her own self-worth. She could frequently be jealous and too often quick to try to blow them up. They had argued about it often and Paul was willing to wager that her problems had nothing at all to do with Simone fearing failure and everything to do with her fear of being a disappointment to everyone she loved, particularly her parents.

  Simone came from a family of high achievers and her parents’ expectations were monumental. When the two of them had discussed marriage, Simone had held her mother and father’s union up as the example she intended to emulate. They were ride or die for each other, but neither had ever given up on their own dreams. She and her siblings had been raised that relationships weren’t to be taken lightly and marriage was sacred. She wasn’t willing to take the risk if she believed the union could have major problems. She only intended to be married once and divorce wasn’t an option she ever wanted to consider if things went left. Road bumps in the dating stage were red flags she wasn’t willing to ignore. Her theories about relationships in general, and theirs in particular, had driven him crazy. Because their biggest challenge had always been getting Simone to simply trust the process, his intentions, and to let their love be what fate intended for it to be. And Simone could never trust what she could not control and manipulate.

  He moved to the kitchen. A plate sat table center covered in aluminum foil. A sticky note rested against an empty glass. Simone had drawn a simple heart and signed it with a lipstick kiss. Again, classic Simone, an apology that was everything
but an actual apology. But it was heartfelt, and he knew she truly was remorseful about their fight.

  Paul pushed the foil aside to expose a baked chicken breast, canned string beans and cheesy potatoes au gratin. He had to smile because Simone didn’t typically cook, so the effort must be genuine. He moved to the microwave, set the timer for two minutes and poured himself a glass of wine as he waited for the food to warm.

  Minutes later he realized how hungry he was as he wolfed the meal down, barely chewing before he swallowed. It was tasty and quickly stalled the pangs of discomfort that had cramped his stomach. He only wished she had been there to share dinner with him, but he realized it was well after midnight and Simone was probably sound asleep.

  After washing the dirty dishes and straightening the kitchen Paul poured himself a glass of bourbon and moved to the living room sofa. Sam Smith echoed out of the speakers, singing some sad, slow song questioning why he was so emotional. Paul sat sipping his drink as the last embers of a fire died down in the fireplace. With everything Paul had on his mind he couldn’t focus. All he could think of was Simone, wondering if a time would come when all he needed to worry about was making her happy.

  * * *

  Simone thought she was still in a dream as she rolled onto her back. It was warm and she was comfortable, her body temperature rising sweetly. Feathers, she thought, as the gentlest touch passed against her bare skin. It felt like feathers doing an erotic dance around her knees and up her inner thighs. It tickled, but it didn’t, just feeling heated and teasing. She heard someone moan and the slightest smile pulled across her face. And then that touch became a nibble and she gasped loudly, realizing that it was her who was moaning.

  Simone took a deep inhale of air and her eyes fluttered open and then closed and then open. The room was dark, just the faintest rays of moonlight shining through the windows. She didn’t know what time it was, only that Paul had finally come to bed.

  She felt Paul’s hands trailing a lazy path down the length of her legs, his mouth fluttering damp kisses against her flesh. He had her body on fire, all her synapses firing with electricity. It felt like the Fourth of July fireworks from her head down to her toes. She murmured his name, a soft chant blowing through the air like a prayer. Then she parted her legs in invitation.