by Staci Hart
“Somebody needs to pull up his pants, Jon.” It was more of a directive than a statement.
He looked around the old man and into Josie’s velvety brown eyes. “Just watch out for his business while you’re down there.”
She shook her head with a haughty laugh. “Oh no, not me. You.”
Jon raised an eyebrow. “Rock-Paper-Scissors?”
Josie mirrored him. “You’re on.”
They each held a fist in front of them and air-pounded in time. Josie chose rock, and Jon landed on scissors.
Josie smiled, and Jon couldn’t even be mad at his misfortune, not when she was happy. Every time he saw her, he would try to coax a laugh out of her. It was rare indeed when he succeeded, so he figured pulling up Chester’s pants was a small price to pay to see that smile, like sunshine from behind a rain cloud, always gone too soon.
“Like you said,” she said, smug as hell, “watch out for his business. No one wants a dick in the ear. Chester would do that, wouldn’t you, Chester?”
“It’s true,” Chester admitted with a shrug.
Jon sighed and ran a hand over his mouth. Then, he stepped behind Chester, deciding that his ass end was the best bet.
“You always pick scissors,” Josie said.
He bent down and grabbed Chester’s pants. “No, I don’t.” Jon pulled the dirty khakis up.
“Yes, you do.”
Jon glanced at Josie, who wore a know-it-all look if he’d ever seen one, before peering over Chester’s shoulder. He shook the skip’s pants in an attempt to wiggle his dick back into them.
“Well, I will say that scissors are the best of all the choices in the game.”
“How so?”
“Aha!” Jon cheered as he got Chester put away, reaching around to zip and button the man’s pants before grabbing his arm again. “Rock, well, it’s just unrefined, and paper, well, paper’s got no personality.”
“And scissors are superior?” Josie asked as the trio made their way out of the alley.
“Sure, I mean, think about it. They’re sharp and shiny. One might even call them sophisticated. You could use scissors for good or evil. They’re like the multitool of Rock-Paper-Scissors.”
“Except that they’re all equal in the game.”
Jon shrugged. “Still, superior as an individual player.”
As they rounded the corner of the building, Josie tugged Chester toward her car.
“Oh no, I’ll take him. You can follow us,” Jon insisted, pulling Chester toward his Jeep.
“And have you shake me and get there first? No way. I’ll take him.” She pulled Chester back in her direction.
Jon watched her for a split second. “All right. Then I’m riding with you.”
She stiffened. “And you can take a cab back to The Duke from the station.”
He nodded. “Works for me.”
Josie gave him a look that said she wasn’t happy with the arrangement before hauling Chester to her car.
Jon stuffed his hands in his pockets and watched her walk ahead of him. Even mad and uncomfortable, she was beautiful. Her hair shone like copper, and his fingers tingled as he remembered the feeling of the silky strands between them. His heart ached at the reminder that he’d lost any rights to touch her after how he handled things, finding himself wishing for the millionth time that he could go back and do it all over. Do it better. Do it right.
Josie could feel Jon’s eyes on her, and her brows furrowed with discomfort as she put Chester in her backseat. She climbed in and turned the key, and Jon slipped in next to her, smelling like rain and leather and man.
She swallowed hard.
Should have made him sit in the back.
He grabbed her auxiliary cable and held up the end. “You mind?”
“Rude. But fine, go ahead and hijack my radio.”
He plugged his phone in, and trumpets blared in the speakers as “Ring of Fire” began.
She backed out of the parking spot and took off toward the police station. “You are such a Southern boy.”
He looked at her like she had nine heads. “Southern or not, who doesn’t like Johnny Cash?”
Chester drunkenly sang along from the backseat.
Jon hitched his thumb at Chester, and a smile crept across his lips. “See?”
Josie’s eyes were on the road, but she found herself smiling despite herself. She snuck a glance over at him just as he looked away. The windows were cracked, and the wind whipped his hair out from behind his ear and across his face. His hand moved to tuck it back in place, and his fingers grazed the bridge of his nose.
She snapped her eyes forward and took a breath that was achingly full of Jon as Johnny sang about the fire that consumed hearts when they were stupid enough to fall in love.
Josie cleared her throat and turned the radio down, though Chester kept singing. They were otherwise silent through the short distance to the station, the quiet accompanied by the occasional glance from Jon, who was clearly entertained by Chester’s enthusiasm.
After they turned the flasher in, they made their way out of the station, neither knowing what to say as they descended the cement stairs.
They stopped for a moment when they reached the sidewalk.
Josie stuck her hands in her jacket pockets, suddenly feeling guilty for her refusal to take him back to his car and for being an ass to him. It wasn’t like he’d planned on crashing her job. She didn’t think so at least.
“Listen,” she started, “I can take you back to your car if you want.”
Jon waved her off. “Don’t worry about it, Jo. Really.” He walked backward with a smile on his face. “I’ll see you around, okay?” he said with a wink before he turned and walked away, whistling his beloved Johnny Cash all the way.
She watched Jon for a little too long before finding her senses and turning for her car, trying to talk herself down, like she did every time she saw him.
He hurt you, she told herself.
He left you, she pleaded with her heart.
He chose her, was the only thought that made a dent, and she found her resolve as she drove away.
It was near dusk as Josie walked to her parents’ house in Hell’s Kitchen.
After she’d collected her check from Jerry J’s Bonds for turning in Chester, she had run errands and had even gone for a jog, though she figured she should put jog in quotations since it’d ended up being more of a sprint than anything.
But, despite it all, Jon was still on her mind as she climbed the stairs to the Campbell residence.
Seeing him always did that to her, and it never ceased to infuriate her. Because she didn’t want to think about him. She didn’t want to feel anything for him. She just wanted him to disappear like he had before.
Things would just be so much easier if he went away and left her alone.
Sunday dinner at the Campbell house was a loud and loving affair and one that no member of the family was exempt from. Josie simultaneously looked forward to the comfort and dreaded the pressure she knew would rest on her shoulders the second she opened the door.
The smell of pot roast hit her so hard, her mouth watered. Her mother’s cooking was about the only decent eating Josie was acquainted with, as most of Josie’s meals were more in the neighborhood of ramen than rib eye.
Josie’s little sister, Liz, sat on the couch with her chestnut hair in a messy bun and earbuds in, her fingers banging out a text on her phone. At fifteen, she cared about very little that fell outside of the realm of boys and whatever her friends were into at the moment.
“Hey, Liz.” Josie closed the door behind her.
Liz didn’t look up.
Josie waved a hand in front of her, and she popped out an earbud.
“Huh?” Her eyebrows were up, her eyes big and brown, just like Josie’s.
“Just saying hello. Doing okay?”
“Sure, if okay is code for complete disaster.”
“Wow, Liz. Sounds serious.”
&
nbsp; “Only if you consider Jamie kissing Ellie’s boyfriend at Ellie’s birthday party serious, which Ellie does.” Liz rolled her eyes. “I don’t, particularly because everyone knows Ellie’s boyfriend is an asshole, but it’s been nonstop drama.”
“Ah, the life of a teenage girl,” Josie said with mock nostalgia. “Where’s Mom?”
“Kitchen. Watch out. The boys are in there arguing over cop movies.”
“What’s new? I don’t know why they even bring it up.”
“Because arguing is the number one event in the Campbell Family Olympics. Duh.” Liz laughed and turned back to her phone.
Josie walked into the dining room and leaned over her father’s wide shoulder to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Hey, Daddy.”
He patted her hand and jerked his chin at her brothers where they were angled over the table, so deep in their discussion that neither saw her.
Paul, her older brother, shook his blond head, his meaty forearms resting on the surface. “Mikey, there’s no way you’ll ever convince me. You can’t even put Beverly Hills Cop and Die Hard in the same category.”
Mike, her younger but not smaller brother, narrowed his eyes. “You know I’m right. Look, I’m not saying that McClane isn’t a badass. I’m just saying that Axel Foley is a better cop.”
Paul waved his hand. “Foley’s smart, but he can’t stay in line.”
“And McClane does? Come on, Paul, you’re gonna have to do better than that.”
“You’re both wrong,” her father chimed in. “It’s Riggs and Murtaugh. Every cop is better with a good partner.”
Josie’s heart lurched, and three faces turned to her for a reaction.
Not only would she never get to be a cop like she’d always dreamed of, but she’d also lost her best friend, her partner, only months before. It was a double-whammy comment that he’d made offhand, but such was the new state of her life.
She woke up every day and found a way to trudge on, but something would inevitably rip the wound open again. She’d almost gotten used to the feeling.
Almost.
She smiled back at them, hoping she looked reassuring. “It’s the truth. Everybody needs somebody to watch their back.”
Paul and Mike stood.
Paul pulled her into a hug. “Hey, Jojo.”
She punched him in the side. “One day, you’ll quit calling me that.”
He laughed. “Not today.”
“Where’s Gia?”
“My beautiful wife is in the kitchen with Mom and Gran. Tell her I said that because the more pregnant she gets, the more likely she is to either cry or yell at me. I need all the help I can get.”
Mike gave her a side hug.
“How’s it going, Mikey?”
He ran a hand through his copper crew cut. “I’m starting to wonder if I’ll be a rookie forever.”
“They’re still razzing you? I figured they’d have found fresh meat by now.”
“Last week, somebody put shaving cream in my shoes, and yesterday, they glitter-bombed my locker.”
Josie laughed. “Oh, Mikey.”
He shrugged. “It’s okay. I got ’em back by stealing all their deodorant and replacing them with Teen Rave Island Breeze.”
“That was my idea,” her dad said from her side and kissed her temple. “How are you, baby?”
She put on a smile. “I’m fine.”
He sighed and gave her a look that said he didn’t buy it. “Mmhmm. Boys,” he turned to his sons, “get in there and get the dishes so we can set the table. And Jo, go say hi to your mom.”
“Yes, sir,” she teased.
“Twelve years I’ve been a captain, and I will never get tired of hearing that.” He gave her a wink.
She followed the solid shoulders of her brothers into the kitchen where laughter mingled with the clinking of silverware and plates.
Her mother bustled around the kitchen as she passed stacks of plates to the boys, tucking an errant strand of auburn hair behind her ear that almost instantly began to slip back into her face. Gia slid off her barstool and waddled around to the stove with her hand on her belly.
“Ah, ah, ah” Josie’s mother shooed her back to her seat as the boys left the room with armfuls of dinnerware. “You just sit down and finish cooking that baby. Leave dinner to me.”
“Laura, I am so over being an incubator, I could scream. I actually did earlier. Paul had no idea how much rage I could expend on him for drinking out of the milk carton.”
They all laughed, and Josie made her way around the room to greet the women of her family. She came to her grandmother last, who was sipping sherry from a small crystal glass.
“Hello, Josephine,” Gran said with a smile, her gray hair coiffed like Jackie O and lips red—always elegant, always beautiful.
“Hello, Josephine,” Josie answered as she gave her grandmother a hug, breathing in the scent of rose water that reminded her of being a little girl.
“And what is new in the life of my favorite private investigator?” Gran brought her sherry to her lips with her gray eyebrows high.
“Well,” Josie said as she took the barstool next to her grandmother, “a few hours ago, I was exposed to a sixty-year-old man’s genitalia, but I guess things could be worse.”
“I’m not sure I’d complain.”
Josie snickered. “He’s not your type. You wouldn’t have been impressed with his level of hygiene or sobriety. That’s on top of the fact that he likes to show said genitals to anyone with eyes, solicited or not.”
“He sounds charming,” Gran said with a flourish. “How about you? My opportunity to be choosy about men might have passed, but yours, my dear, has not.”
Josie shifted in her seat and avoided Gran’s eyes. “You know I’m too busy with work to date.”
“Yes, yes, so I’ve heard,” she said.
Laura pulled the roast out of the oven, closed the door with her foot, and turned for the dining room. “Everybody, grab a dish and follow me,” she said with the swing of her elbow.
They did as they had been told and followed her to the table where the men of the family sat, chatting. Josie took her usual seat between Liz and Gran, across from the boys and Gia, who laid a napkin over her giant belly and sighed.
“I can barely even reach my plate.”
Paul laid an arm over the back of his wife’s chair. “Just a few more weeks.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she mumbled as everyone loaded their plates and passed dishes around.
“Well,” Laura said as she handed Gran the mashed potatoes, “I’ve got one grandbaby on deck. Who’s going to be next?”
Josie kept her eyes on the roast as she forked it onto her plate.
Just don’t, Mom. Not today.
“Don’t look at me,” Mike said as he leaned on the table.
“I don’t know, Mom. If I have anything to do with it, it’ll be my turn,” Liz said. She took a bite of peas. “I know how you really want me to be on 16 and Pregnant. Having a baby’s basically like getting a puppy, right?”
“Don’t even joke about it, Elizabeth Marie,” Laura warned. “I’ll skin you, and your father will skin any boy stupid enough to even think about it.”
Everyone smiled down at their roast and peas and potatoes, except for Laura, who turned her attention to Josie.
“How about you, Josie? Meet any eligible young men this week?”
“Mom,” she warned.
Laura’s eyebrows were up as she reached for a bowl of carrots. “Is that a no?”
“That’s a no.”
“Well,” Laura said as she spooned carrots onto her plate, “it couldn’t hurt to be a little more lip gloss and a little less gunmetal.”
Josie’s mouth hung open for a split second before she snapped it shut. “I don’t have time for lip gloss, and I happen to like guns.”
Paul snorted. “Speaking of boyfriends, I saw Jon at the station the other day.”
Josie shoveled roast into her mouth to stop
herself from responding.
Her father chuckled. “Rosie made him wait an hour for a check she’d cut him weeks ago. I think it was sitting on her desk the whole time he was waiting.”
Josie set her fork down with a clink almost loud enough to be disruptive. “Am I the only one who doesn’t find it amusing that half the precinct knows the details of my love life?”
“Oh, come on, Jo,” Paul said with a smirk. “Giving Jon hell is the least we can do to dish that asshole a little payback.”
“Language, Paul.” Laura gave him a look.
Josie eyeballed him too. “Look, as much as I appreciate the thought, I just wish everyone would drop it.”
Paul leaned on the table, his smirk fading and face hardening. “The guy left town with his ex he’d knocked up and didn’t even have the guts to tell you he was leaving. I mean, what kind of coward doesn’t break up with someone face-to-face?”
A thousand thoughts fired through Josie’s mind, so many that her mouth couldn’t even pick one.
Gia elbowed him in the side. “Paul,” she hissed.
He looked at his wife like he had zero clue. “What? I’m just saying, we all hate him just as much as she does.”
Josie shoved her rage down from cracking skulls to spitting nails. “I don’t need reminding, and I very seriously doubt that your feelings about him are stronger than mine. Can we just not talk about it? Please? For God’s sake, I just want to come to Sunday dinner and not have everybody up my ass.”
“Language!” Laura said, exasperated. She turned her fury on her husband. “Hank, control your children.”
Hank set his fork down and leaned on his forearm. “Josie, honey, on behalf of our entire misguided but well-meaning family, I would like to apologize. I know we have a funny way of showing it, but we only want you to be happy.”
Josie made eye contact with each member of her family. “It would make me happy if everybody dropped it. I’m fine, okay? I don’t want a boyfriend, and I don’t need help from the vigilante heart police. Now, can we please change the subject?”
“Sure, Jo. Sure.” Hank turned to the other side of the table. “Gia, I think we would all love to hear about the nursery. Has Pauly finished painting, or do I need to knock some sense into him?”
