“Oh, I hope Josh and Gabe don’t get it too.”
“I don’t get sick,” I told him while waiting for Gabe to answer his phone. My call went to voicemail, which never happened, so that meant Gabe was talking on the phone or busy doing damage control. “Hey, babe, check out the Blissville Daily News if you haven’t already seen the headline. Not sure you’ll get home at a decent time tonight after all. Love you.”
The rest of the salon staff showed up and our day kicked into high gear as people got ready for holiday parties that weekend. Thanksgiving might’ve been a slow time, but Christmas was crazy busy. Normally, I loved the hectic pace of my job, but I started to feel more and more droopy as the day went on.
The only response I got from Gabe all day was a single word in a text. Fuck! The grandmas checked in with me every hour and even sent pictures showing smiling, happy babies. I could tell that they weren’t feeling a hundred percent, but were looking a hell of a lot better than they did when I first saw them that morning.
“You don’t look so well, Jazz,” Mere said when I was sweeping up the hair from my last appointment for the day. She reached up to touch my forehead, but I stepped out of her reach.
“Stay back,” I told her. “I think I’m just tired from interrupted sleep, but the twins have a cold.”
“You don’t get sick,” Mere stated.
“I know, but I don’t want to take a chance and spread germs to you. It’s bad enough that you’ve been breathing the same air as me all day long.”
“Honey, colds are unavoidable. You go on home and let me close up for you.”
I wanted to argue, but I could feel a fever coming on. “I’ll be better tomorrow,” I assured her.
“Call me if you need anything.”
I snorted. “With two moms in the house?”
“Yeah, you’re in good hands. Let me know how you’re feeling though.”
I was grateful for the short drive because cold chills had moved in by the time I pulled into the garage. My mom took one look at me and sent me straight to my room.
“I d-d-d-don’t get s-s-s-sick,” I said through chattering teeth.
She brought me some tea, ibuprofen, and the jar of “goo” to rub on my chest. “You rest for now. I’ll bring up some chicken noodle soup in a bit.”
“And maybe a peanut butter and jelly sandwich too?” I asked. One little cold had reduced me to a little kid in an instant.
“Of course.”
I closed my eyes and didn’t wake up again until I felt warm lips press against my forehead. “Hi, baby,” I said. I didn’t need to open my eyes to recognize who those lips belonged to.
“You don’t get sick,” Gabe whispered into my ear.
“I don’t.”
He pressed his hand to my forehead. “Fever’s gone.”
“Thank God! I hate that our babies felt this miserable. It’s horrible. You can’t afford to get sick since you only have a few days to catch the Christmas Bandits.”
Gabe groaned. “Nothing curbs your snark, does it?”
“It makes me feel alive,” I said dramatically. “So, Dirty Harry, what are your plans?”
“Tonight, I’m going to take care of my family.”
“Tomorrow?”
“There’s only right now,” he said, but I could hear his gears grinding. “Hey, I brought up your dinner. Do you feel like eating?”
“Not really, but Mom went to the trouble, so I’m going to give it my all.”
“Do you want to eat here or in the sitting area? I can start a fire for you.”
“Oh, a fire sounds nice.” I waggled my eyebrows suggestively.
“Not tonight, you’re in no shape.”
“I could totally still rock your world, Gabe,” I said, sliding from between the sheets.
“I have no doubt, Sunshine,” he said, following me with the tray of food. “Can and should aren’t the same things.”
“You sound so parental.”
“I’m practicing for future conversations with the kids. Is it working?”
“No, I still want you to do me, but I’ll be lucky to stay awake long enough to eat my soup.”
“I’ve never seen you sick before,” Gabe said worriedly.
“I’ll be right as rain in the morning,” I promised him.
Gabe set the tray over my lap, and I smiled when I saw that my mom sent up all the things she fed me when I was sick as a kid. Campbell’s chicken noodle soup, peanut butter and jelly cut diagonally, lime Jell-O, and a bottle of Sprite. “My mommy loves me.”
“She sure does, now dig in while I go check on the babies.”
“Bring them to me,” I hollered after him, which made me cough.
“I planned on it,” Gabe assured me. “I thought we could do story time in here tonight.”
I must’ve been hungrier than I thought because I ate everything on the plate. Maybe that adage about feeding a cold was right, because I felt a little better. I sure as hell breathed better with the “goo” on my chest.
“Daddy! Daddy!” my angels said when Gabe carried them into our room.
He set them down and they tottered their sleepy heads over to where I sat on the sofa.
“I missed you so much today,” I said, holding them to me. I kissed the tops of their heads and breathed in their baby shampoo. “I missed bath time.”
“You missed a doozy too,” Gabe said. An ornery smile crossed his lips and I knew exactly what had happened.
“He said it again, didn’t he?”
“Oh yeah.” Gabe’s lips trembled as he struggled to hold it together. “He got mad when his bath toy was out of reach.”
“Dylan James, did you say that naughty word again?”
Our son shook his head.
“I don’t think I believe you,” I told him. I looked over my shoulder and saw that Gabe was gone. I waited a few seconds then heard the distinct sound of my husband laughing his ass off coming through the baby monitor.
He returned with a stoic look on his face when he rejoined us with a book in his hands.
“That might’ve worked better had you not lost your sh… cool in the nursery with the baby monitor on.”
“Oops,” Gabe said sheepishly.
“Read us our story, Big Daddy.”
Gabe’s deep voice lulled me to sleep long before he reached the end of the book.
“Maybe you should consider staying home from work,” I said from bed as I watched Josh get dressed.
“I told you I feel much better.”
“Yes, but you also told me that you never get sick. You lied.”
“No, it was true at the time, so it wasn’t a lie. I can’t recall the last time I got sick,” Josh countered. “Why are we debating this anyway?”
“I’m just trying to avoid reality for a little longer. Why don’t you come back to bed for a few more minutes?” I asked, crooking my index finger at him. “I should take your temperature.”
I noticed the extra sass in his swaying hips as he crossed the room. Josh leaned over me, but avoided my greedy hands that tried to tug him down beside me. “You took my temperature once already this morning. Your thermometer said I’m fever free, so I’m going to work.” Josh cruelly whipped the covers back, exposing my naked body to the cool air. “Quit stalling and go catch those Christmas Bandits.”
I jackknifed into a sitting position, gasping in surprise. “You’re so mean.” He was definitely going to be in charge of getting the kids out of bed for school someday, especially when they’re surly teenagers.
“You haven’t seen anything yet, mister.” Josh arrogantly ambled away from the bed. “I’m going to need you to capture those bandits like you promised because our family’s reputation is at stake.”
I recovered my body and lay on my side to watch him finish getting ready. Josh was graceful in everything he did, and I could watch him all day. “I didn’t promise to capture the bandits by Christmas Eve,” I groaned. “Myrna embellished that part a little bit
.”
“That doesn’t sound like the newspaper editor I worked for in high school.”
“People change,” I said, shrugging. “Besides, that was…” My voice trailed off when I saw his expression in the mirror.
“Were you about to make jokes about my age? It wasn’t that long ago.”
“Twelve years,” I countered. “People can change a lot in that time.”
“So, are you going to argue with me all day just to avoid reality?”
“I’d rather fuck, but you insist on going to work,” I replied.
“Pretty sure that I know just the thing to motivate you throughout your day.”
“Oh, I know you do.”
I returned to a sitting position when Josh grabbed the naughty Santa advent calendar off the dresser.
“I knew this would grab your attention,” he said smugly. “You can open yesterday’s surprise now, but you won’t get to use it until you get home tonight.”
I rubbed my hands together gleefully. I opened the lid off the box and pulled out a piece of paper. My eyes widened excitedly when I unfolded it and saw the little picture he printed. “A sex swing?”
Josh’s face flushed bright red, but I wasn’t sure if it was from arousal or shyness. “I, um…” Ah, I had my answer.
I placed my hand on the back of his neck and pulled him to me for a kiss. “Damn, I can’t wait to see you in that swing.”
“Who said I was sitting in the swing?” Josh quirked a brow.
The idea of Josh fucking me in that thing was sexy as fuck until an image of me falling and bringing the wall down with me put a damper on my arousal. “I’m too heavy.”
“Nonsense,” Josh countered. “It says it supports up to three hundred pounds.” He was rocking his poker face and I couldn’t tell if he was serious or not. “You hang it from a doorway, which is nice and sturdy.” My husband leaned forward and kissed my lips. “I can see you’re nervous about the idea, so I’ll go first. You can truss me up in that thing and pound the fuck out of me later tonight.”
I threw back the covers and hauled ass toward the bathroom.
“Where are you going?”
“I have bandits to catch so I can return home and rock my man’s world.”
“Alright, team. Let’s catch the bandits. We’re going to divide up in groups and split the credible leads.”
“Define credible, Cap,” Adrian said.
“Ones that don’t include aliens or famous people,” I replied.
“The gypsies are still on the table then?” Officer Jones asked with a snicker.
“Keep it up, Jones, and I’ll send you to the surrounding woods to interview Sasquatch.”
Everyone laughed, but someone had called the tip line and suggested that Sasquatch was the one waging war on Christmas. I added that one to the Not Likely pile along with Marilyn Monroe and Elvis Presley.
“My apologies. I take it back, Cap.”
“Let’s see if we can get through half of these tips today and the remaining ones tomorrow,” I told them.
“Calls keep coming in, Cap,” O’Malley said. “We’re getting messages on our social media pages too.”
“It’ll die down.” God, I hoped so.
“Excuse me,” a female voice sounded behind me.
I turned around and saw a woman standing in the police station holding her teenage boy in place by the collar of his coat.
“Can I help you?” I asked.
“Yes, I’m pretty sure my son is your Christmas Bandit.”
“Come right this way,” I said, gesturing toward my office. I really wanted this kid to be the bandit, or part of the crew, but doubted I was that lucky. Besides, he didn’t look nervous or defiant—emotions I’d expect him to express if he were guilty. Instead, he looked… bored. He even rolled his eyes as they walked by me.
“I’m telling you, this is your guy,” the woman said as soon as I shut my office door. She guided her son to a chair then took the empty one next to him.
“What makes you think so, ma’am?”
“My husband and I caught him sneaking back in through his window last night after we returned from neighborhood patrol last night,” she said.
“Neighborhood patrol?” I asked.
“Sure! They’re forming all over town. We want to help you catch the Christmas Bandits.”
“You want the money,” the defiant teenager said snidely. “You’d give up your own son for a few bucks.”
“Try five thousand dollars, but I’d turn you in for free,” she boasted then looked at me. “I’m sorry that my son stole from your husband. I’m sure you have techniques to make him tell you where he hid them. I don’t mean torture,” she quickly said so that I wouldn’t misinterpret her intentions. “Lie detector tests or trust serum.”
“Truth serum, Matilda,” the kid said.
“Robert, don’t you correct me in front of the chief of police.” She glared at her son, but he didn’t look in her direction. “And stop calling me by my first name. It’s Mom to you.”
“He’s the police captain, Mom.”
“Oh you,” she growled, swatting her hand in the air. “Anyway, Herb and I looked up and saw a shadowy figure crawl into our only son’s window. We rushed inside and found him stashing his load.”
“Loot.”
“Shut it, wise ass!”
It was all I could do to keep a straight face as she butchered slang words and he corrected her. “Loot? What kind of loot?”
“This!” Matilda pulled a baggie out of her purse and dropped it on my desk. “He’s been smoking the Sara Jane.”
“Mary Jane, Matilda. You grew up in the sixties, the best generation for cars, music, drugs, and self-expression, but you don’t know the difference between Mary Jane and Sara Jane. Ohhh, perhaps you smoked too much Mary Jane yourself?”
“I did no such thing.”
“Me thinks the lady doth protest too much,” Robert replied smugly.
“I hate to break up this touching family moment here,” I said, interrupting them, “but I fail to see where a baggie with two joints is connected to the Christmas Bandits.”
“Where’s he getting the money to pay for his drug habit?” she asked me, then turned to face her son. “Care to tell us that?”
“I make ten dollars an hour at the McDonald’s in Goodville,” he told me. “I’m a recreational user, so I don’t spend a lot. Anyway, Captain, they caught me crawling into my window after I had a joint. I’m not your Christmas Bandit.”
“It’s a pathway drug, Robert.”
“Gateway, Matilda, and that’s debatable.”
Then the two of them began to argue back and forth about respecting each other and their spaces. Robert was pissed that Matilda searched his room and turned him in. She burst into tears and claimed she failed him as a mother.
“Excuse me,” I said, raising my voice to be heard. “I’m going to confiscate the weed—”
“Hey!”
“Do you have a prescription, Robert?”
“No,” he said, slumping in his chair.
“I’m confiscating the weed, as it is still an illegal substance in the state of Ohio.”
“You’ll probably smoke it yourself after I leave.”
Ignoring his remark, I said, “You’re free to go.”
“Wait! You’re not going to arrest him?”
“For what? Two joints? No, I’m not going to arrest him.” I took a calming breath before I continued. “You don’t have any evidence to connect him to the burglaries and acts of vandalism, so there’s nothing I can do on that front either.”
“Fine,” Matilda said, as she rose to her feet. “I might as well turn over the rest of his drug tools.”
“Paraphernalia,” Robert corrected. “And I don’t have any.”
“Oh, yes you do! I did another sweep of your room while you were in the shower this morning and found some things we overlooked last night.” She reached back into her purse and pulled out a plasti
c tube and dropped it onto my desk with a thunk. “Here’s his pipe.”
“Oh my God,” Robert whined. I never knew a person’s face could turn that shade of red. I feared he would combust at any second. “I can’t believe you, Matilda!”
“I’m doing this for your own good, Robert. No more pipe or joints.”
The red faded from his cheeks and an ornery gleam sparked in his light eyes. “That’s not a pipe, Matilda.”
“Sure it is.” She nodded at me, expecting that I would back her up.
“It’s not a pipe,” I told her.
“Then what is it?” She picked it up and looked down one end of it. She eased a finger inside it. “It’s made from a weird, fleshy rubber.”
Robert smiled wickedly, and I could see him mentally counting down for the big moment. Three, two, one… “It’s a Fleshlight, Matilda. I use it to masturbate.”
“What?” She screeched then dropped it back onto my desk. “When did using your hand go out of style?”
“That’s so nineties, Matilda.”
“Well,” she said huffily. “We’ve wasted enough of the chief’s—um, captain’s—time. Let’s go home, Robert.”
“Take this with you,” I said, gesturing to the masturbation device on my desk. “Here, you can carry it out in this.” I pulled one of the plastic bags I use to line my trash can from the bottom drawer of my desk. Robert grabbed the bag from me and put his Fleshlight in it. “Don’t even think about it,” I said when he looked longingly at his confiscated joints.
“You’re totally going to smoke my weed,” Robert tossed over his shoulder on the way out of my door.
Adrian popped his head in as soon as they left. “Is that what I think it is?” he asked when he spotted the baggie on my desk.
“Yep,” I told him. “Mind logging that into the evidence room?”
“No problem,” my former partner said. “So, what happened?”
“You wouldn’t believe me. Hell, at one point, I thought about calling you in here so you could witness it for yourself.”
“Oh, come on, Gabe. It can’t be that good.”
“Sit down.”
I told him the entire story from start to finish, making sure to mimic the tones they used. Of course, I saved the best part for last.
Welcome to Blissville Page 152
