by Lisa Shelby
“Just a rough week at work.”
“You know if you need to talk, I’m here. I think it’s safe to say I owe you one. Actually, two if I’m honest.”
“Two?”
“Well, not only where you there for me that night when everything went down with my dad, but you helped knock some sense into me about Kevin and I broke up with him. So, I owe you, Mick.”
“You broke up with that douchebag, really?” I can’t help the fleeting hope that soars through my veins.
“Yep, it’s not like I was in love with him or he was the one. I was just passing time.”
Words have never sounded so good. She didn’t love him! Thank God! I know it makes me a dick but I don’t want her to love anybody else. The thought of her getting married to somebody one day is enough to make me sick.
The silence is back. Five minutes must go by when she leans her head on my shoulder, gives my hand a squeeze and says, “Mick, talk to me.”
“I don’t want to lay my crap on you, Alex. You don’t need to hear this kind of stuff.”
“Mick, you always take care of everybody. Let somebody be there for you. Speaking of you taking care of everybody, I’ve been meaning to say thanks for taking such good care of Emily and Ireland. You’ve really gone above and beyond for them, and it means a lot to Emily. She’s been through a lot and I’m glad that she has you to count on. So, thanks for taking care of our girl.”
“Of course, I’d do anything for those two,” I reply.
“I know you would and Emily would do anything for you, too. Why don’t you let somebody be there for you, Mick? If you don’t want to talk to me, why not talk to Em or Ry?”
“Alex, Em’s been through enough. I can’t lay my shit on her. I go to Riley with everything and I feel like a pussy not being able to handle the emotions of my job. I’m Mickey fuckin’ Jacobs and shit isn’t supposed to get to me.”
She reaches in front of me with her free hand and grabs my face and turns it so I’m looking her eye to beautiful fucking eye. Just mere inches from her perfectly luscious lips. My God, she is extraordinary.
“Mick, you aren’t made of steel. You’re allowed to let things get to you from time to time, but you need to talk about it. You can’t hold it all inside. Let me be that person that you unload some of your burdens on. I can be there for you, Mick.” She bumps me with her shoulder again and says, “Come on. Give me chance.”
“Why?” I ask her. Searching her eyes for something, but I’m not sure what.
“Why what?”
“Why do you want me to share my burdens with you?” I ask her.
“Mick, I care about you. I always have. You were there when I needed you, now let me be there for you. Tell me about your week.”
I finally tear my eyes from hers and stare blankly out across the dark yard. To my own surprise, I start to talk.
“You know, Alex, I don’t care that people don’t like cops. They call us names everywhere we go and people treat us like shit. I can handle that because I don’t give a shit what people think of me. I can handle most calls and walk away knowing I did my job, and I sleep fine at night. There are times though, where it sticks with me and I can’t let it go.”
I pause and she lets go of my hand and anxiety fills me instantly. It’s gone a moment later when she places that hand on my back and takes my hand again with her other hand. She slowly rubs my back and calms me. She’s letting me take my time and that’s what I need. I rarely talk to anybody about the emotional side of my line of work. How do you explain this part of the job to people? Most people don’t hear about this part. Don’t want to hear about it.
I finally take a deep breath and start again. “It’s the kids, Alex. They’re so innocent and don’t do anything at all to deserve the hand they’ve been dealt. Seeing abused kids pisses me off like you wouldn’t believe, and you dream about it at night. Taking a crying kid away from his abusive parents is hard, but I know in the end it’s the right thing. I just hope and pray that they get cared for better elsewhere. I have to believe that good will come of it. There are times though, when there is nothing good and nothing I can do to help.”
I’ve stopped again. She squeezes my hand and says, “It’s okay, Mick. I’m here. You don’t have to keep going, but I’m here and I’m not going anywhere. Just take your time.”
Minutes go by before I speak again. I hate thinking about it.
“My week had been shitty with a DUII death and an abuse case, but on Wednesday night I was the first on scene to a SIDS death. I don’t know how to explain it to you, but it’s the worst feeling I have ever felt and I’ve felt it on several occasions. When you arrive to the house the parents are hysterical. They’ve just found their precious child dead in their crib and they want you to save him. Alex, he was blue. They handed me their blue baby and begged me to bring him back. There was nothing I could do, but I couldn’t not try. For the parent’s sake, I did CPR on the baby. I gave little puffs of air into his mouth and did chest compressions with my fingers just like I’ve been trained to do. Nothing happened. I knew he was gone, but I tried. Soon the paramedics were there and they took over for me and pronounced the baby dead. The mother was screaming and fell apart in my arms while her husband just stood there in stunned silence. I was a part of the worst day of their lives. They will always remember that I wasn’t able to save their son.”
Alex starts to speak but I just keep going. I know what she’s going to say.
“My brain knows that there wasn’t anything I could do, but it doesn’t make it any easier. I can still hear the mom screaming, and I can still smell the baby powder. I can’t get the smell to go away. The last few nights when I try to go to sleep I smell baby powder and I relive it over and over. I just want to sleep, Alex. I’m so tired.”
She doesn’t say a thing. To my surprise she gets up, sits on my lap with her legs across mine, puts her arms around my neck and she holds me. She’s cradling my head so that I am nestled in that spot between her neck and her chest. It’s not at all sexual; it feels nurturing. She holds me and rubs my head and doesn’t say a word. It’s exactly what I need.
She’s exactly what I need.
She soothes me.
Getting it out and not hearing her try to tell me it’s all going to be okay, is exactly what I needed. Her holding me and the gentle rhythm of her hand gliding back and forth over my head is more than I could have asked for. I don’t ever want to let her go, but I know that I don’t always get what I want.
“Thanks Alex,” I lamely say as I lift my head from her neck; the only thing that I can smell now. The only place I want to be.
She leaves my lap, taking all her warmth and comfort with her, and sits back down beside me and bumps my shoulder yet again. “I’m not sure that I did much but anytime, Mick.”
“Thanks for not trying to make it all okay. Thanks for just letting me talk. For just being here.”
“Mick, we’ve been friends a long time. I’m around if you ever need anything at all. If you need a friend, I’m your girl. In fact, let me text you so you have my number and you can call me day or night.”
A few seconds later my phone pings, and I take it out of my back pocket to see a text that reads:
Call me anytime you Sexy Beast, you. Lol
I can’t help the laugh that comes barreling out of me. “I see you found my number,” I say standing up and feeling much better than when I came out here thirty minutes ago. It was great to get it out and end things on a laugh. “You think you can handle being just 'friends’ with a Sexy Beast like me?” I say as I bring my hand down my body as though I am presenting it to her, in all its glory.
“I’m not sure my heart could take much more than just friends, Mick. I’m sure willing to give it a shot though.”
And there it is. She knows me too well and that I can never give her what she needs; which is more. She deserves more than what a man-whore like me can give her. I’ve never really been just friends with a girl.
Can I do it? Having Alex in my life is something I’ve always wanted. If being friends is what it has to be, then friends it is.
“Let’s give it a shot. Thanks again for tonight, Alex.”
“Anytime, Mick.”
Chapter 5
Alex ~ October
It’s been a couple of weeks since Riley’s party, and since then, Mickey and I have been in constant contact.
It started that night when Mick made me promise to text him once I made it home safely. I texted him and he texted back and we haven’t stopped texting since. We text each other good morning. Well our mornings are at different times of the day, but we still text when we wake up. He sends me pictures of Frank throughout the day and we text each other when something interesting happens to either of us. We text each other good night. Every night.
For the most part the texts have stayed in the friend-zone, but every now and then he’ll make a suggestive comment and when I call him on it, he always blames poor Frank. It’s nice to have somebody who makes me laugh to talk to every day.
Who would have thought one of my most trusted confidants would be Mickey Jacobs?
He’s so much more than the bad-ass party boy he likes to portray to the rest of the world. He’s actually a great guy. In fact, just yesterday he told me I needed to have some fun.
He’s right. Between work and my parents, I don’t really incorporate a lot of fun into my routine. I do have a standing happy hour with Olivia every week, and I have my occasional time with the Cami and Emily, but it’s not as much as I would like. I know that I need to get out more, but my mom has this way of making me feel guilty, even if it’s not on purpose.
I know a lot of it is the fact that she protected me from my father for years. She took many beatings over the course of my life that were intended for me. I remember each and every one of those beatings that I watched from the other room or listened to from my bedroom.
I owe her everything.
If that means being at her beck and call from time to time, so be it. I know she’s lonely and lost with Dad and I both gone, but she insists that I have my own place and that I don’t live with her. I do what I can to fill in those gaps for her, but I know it’s not enough. She’s lonely.
Mick has decided that tonight is the night I get out. I’m meeting him for happy hour at Portland City Grill. It’s a staple in Portland and they have the best happy hour food around. It’s also full of yuppies and suits and not Mick’s usual type of hang out.
I try not to think about this as I freshen up at work before heading out. I know he’s just a friend, but he’s also the hottest friend I have ever had, and this whole being friends with Mick thing is still pretty new. Whether I want to admit it or not, I did take extra care in what I wore to work today and I’m feeling pretty good. I went with a black pencil skirt, white blouse with capped sleeves and black stilettos that make me at least six feet tall or just over. My hair is down, blown out and has a wave to it. I know he’s just a friend, but he’s still Mickey and I can’t help but dress to impress.
On the thirtieth floor of the US Bank Tower, I get off of the elevator and just as I do my phone pings. It’s Mick. He’s already here and has snagged one of the coveted tables by the window.
Walking into the bar my stomach is doing flips. My brain knows that we’re just friends, but that girly heart of mine, that is clearly covered in lace and pink polka dots, still feels the flutter of my childhood crush. I let out a deep breath and make my way towards the windows that line the bar.
When I reach the table and see Mick waiting for me the view takes my breath away. I wish I could say it was the view of Portland and Mt. Hood in the distance, but that’s not the view stealing my breath. My view is stunning and it’s because of the gorgeous man getting up from his seat to greet me.
Mick is always beautiful, but tonight he’s dressed it up a bit. He’s in a trim-fit black button down shirt and dark jeans. I know this is the typical dressy casual attire that all guys wear when going out to a nicer place, but I have never seen Mick dressed like this. He’s a t-shirt and shorts kind of guy when he’s not in his uniform, so this look is something new.
After my gawking is done, I realize we’re both just standing here, like idiots, staring at each other. Slowly, a sexy grin takes over his face and he says, “Alexandra Stotts, you look amazing.”
“You clean up real nice yourself, Mickey Jacobs.”
“I have my moments,” he says with a wink. “Bet you wish you had your camera to take a shot of this, I know, but you’ll just have to burn it into your memory bank this time.” I earn another wink and just shake my head at him.
He steps aside so I can take the overstuffed seat next to the window, but instead of sitting across from me he sits in the chair to my left.
“You said that you loved the lemon drops here, so I went ahead and ordered one for you.”
I’m relieved to hear the nervousness in his voice. Thank God, it’s not just me.
“Thanks.”
I take a drink of my lemon drop, Mick takes a drink of his beer and things get awkward. We seem to not have anything to say to one another when we aren’t texting.
Minutes go by and he just stares at me but doesn’t say anything. This can’t really be happening, can it? This has to come to an end some way…somehow.
I know it’s lame but my own little internal game that I play comes to mind, and because I’m desperate I go with it.
“Co-workers, but they’re having an affair.”
“Excuse me, but what the hell are you talking about, Alex?” He asks while looking at me like I’ve lost my mind.
“Those two…over there at the bar,” I say as I point my head in their direction.
“How do you know that they’re having an affair?”
“I don’t, it’s just a little game I like to play in my head. It was getting a little too awkward so I’m letting you join in.”
He smiles and says, “Oh, I like the way your mind works, little lady.” He leans over so that he’s closer to me and says, “So, those two? The woman in the red dress and the dude in the suit, right?”
“Yep. They’re both married with kids. They’re meeting other co-workers here but they got here before everybody else. He’s the boss and they have a thing going and they think that nobody at work knows.”
Just then the man puts his hand on the small of the woman’s back and slowly but surely, his hand goes lower and lower until it reaches her ass.
“Shit, Miss Stotts, you are damn good at this! I am impressed!”
Moments later several other men in suits join them at the bar, and the man quickly removes his hand from the lady in red’s ass. Now they’re acting like strangers separated by co-workers and barely even glancing at one another.
“I have to admit this doesn’t normally happen. I usually just make stuff up in my head. It’s just something to pass the time. I’ve kind of impressed myself tonight. Let’s pick somebody else,” I say to keep the awkwardness at bay.
He doesn’t realize that I started this little game years ago. Years ago, after I started going to group therapy. It was there that I realized that it wasn’t just me that always had a façade up. I learned that people from all walks of life are going through things you would never imagine. There are so many people out in the world that look like they have it all together but inside…inside they are just barely hanging on. Before I knew it, I found myself watching people to see if I could see the cracks in their façade’s and from that came my little internal game that I’m now playing with Mick.
He looks around, points to a woman leaning against the bar and says, “What’s her story?”
I sit back and watch her for a moment or two. “Okay, you ready for this?”
“Ready. Give it to me, girl.”
“Well, this is a nice place and all but she’s dressed up just a little too much. She’s trying too hard to look sexy with the way she’s standing and holding her drink.” He just nods al
ong with my rambling and seems just as into this little game as I am. “My first instinct was that she was a high-priced hooker but…that’s not it.”
“It’s not, is it?” He says with a small crooked smile as he turns in his chair, completely facing me and not even looking at the woman in question.
“Nope. I think this is date night with her husband of ten years. They’re trying to spice things up and trying a little role-playing. They’ve taken their rings off and are going to pretend to be single and pick each other up in a bar. They’ll act like they’ve never met before and before you know it she’ll be going into the bathroom to remove her panties and then she’ll come back to the bar and slip them in his pocket.”
His eyes widen in shock for a brief moment before a glimmer of delight lights them up.
“Wow, I really like the way your mind works,” he says with his elbow on the arm of his chair and his chin resting on his hand. He seems completely captivated with the little make-believe world I’m creating. “So, if it’s date night, where is he?”
I give him a look that says, you are such a novice, and say, “Well, they couldn’t show up together if they’re going to play strangers who meet in a bar. She got here first and he’ll get here shortly. Who knows, he may be somewhere here in the bar watching her from afar and just waiting to make his move.”
“You are very creative, Miss Stotts. Who knew you had such an active imagination? I must say, I think I like it.”
“Well, glad I could impress you. My turn to pick somebody for you. Hmmm…let’s see…I know. How about the red-headed bartender? What’s his story?”
From there we take turns assigning patrons and staff of the bar to one another and creating their fictional stories. We’ve each done four or five and we can’t stop laughing as the stories get more and more outlandish.
I may have impressed him but I have to admit I’m pretty impressed too. When I brought up this little game I was worried he might make fun of me, but it turns out he has a really open mind and just rolled right along with it. I’m having a great time and I think he is too. That is, until one in a long line of Mickey Jacobs one-night stands stops by to say hello.
