Thrilling Thirteen

by Ponzo, Gary

  His arms crossed and his face was hard as stone, he said, “Really? So you’re on top of everything?”

  On top of everything? What the hell was he talking about? Why did he always have to use that tone? The tone that said Mark was an idiot.

  “Yeah. I think I am. The doctor said I’m making a remarkable recovery so I don’t need you butting in. I can take care of myself.”

  “I have to wonder about that. You seem to make a lot of bad choices.”

  “Excuse me? What the hell is that supposed to mean?” He straightened as much as he could.

  His dad swept a hand towards the cane. “You chose to take pictures in a gang infested neighborhood. Did you really think that was a good idea?”

  Jaw clenched, Mark fought the impulse to give up his secret. His dad wouldn’t understand. Prophetic dreams? Yeah, right. He wasn’t going to open himself up to that ridicule. Even with the photos, his dad would scoff in disbelief and probably accuse him of manipulating the photo on his computer. If by some wild chance he believed everything, he’d advise Mark to turn the camera over to the police and then suggest that if he wanted to play at being a superhero, he should have become a doctor—like him.

  Tension thickened the air as he locked eyes with his father.

  His mom cleared her throat and moved to retrieve a bag off a chair beside the bed. “I almost forgot, Mark. I brought you the clothes you asked for plus I included a pair of sweatpants. They should fit over the bandage.”

  Mark tore his attention from his dad and attempted to smile to show his appreciation. “Thanks, Mom. That’s great. In fact, if you help me get them over my foot, I’d like to wear them now.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Mark limped across the loft and fished the phone out of the sofa cushions. The sound of the ringing had been so muffled, he wasn’t sure what it was at first.

  “Hello?”

  He hadn’t had time to look at the caller ID before picking up as it had taken him about five rings to answer and voicemail would pick up before the sixth.

  “Hello, Mark? This is Jessica Bishop…Detective Bishop.”

  He smiled at the clarification, as if he knew some other Jessica Bishop. “Hello, Detective. Sorry I never called you back, but I couldn’t think of anything new to add to what I had already told you.”

  “Oh no, that’s not what I was calling about. I was just wondering how you were doing.”

  A warm glow of pleasure sparked in his chest. “I’m doing great. I even ditched the cane a few days ago.”

  “That’s wonderful. Glad to hear it. Do you have to go to physical therapy or anything?”

  Mark eased down onto the sofa, bringing his injured leg up, trying to bite back the grunt of discomfort the action caused. “Yeah, I go every other day.”

  “I see…”

  An awkward silence followed and Mark wracked his mind for something to say to fill it. “Hey, I never heard back about that undercover cop. Is he still going to press charges against me?” The worry had nagged at him ever since she had mentioned it when she had been at the hospital.

  There was a pause and Mark held his breath, awaiting the worst.

  “No…I don’t think so. I haven’t heard anything since right after you were shot. I think he was just frustrated. I honestly don’t think he had a case against you anyway. You didn’t break any laws since you were on a public sidewalk, and in spite of what you told me before, we couldn’t find any proof that you intentionally blew his cover.”

  “No, I didn’t. I just wanted to save his life.”

  She cleared her throat. “Yeah, well that opens another can of worms that I don’t care to deal with right now. We’re going to say you made a lucky guess, okay?”

  Mark grinned. He could handle that. “Sounds like a plan.”

  “Great. Did you get your car back okay?”

  “Yeah, thanks for the help on that. It cost me a few hundred, but the Chicago PD waived the parking tickets. I had to pay for the towing and storage though. My parents picked it up for me.”

  “Great. Are they there helping you?”

  “They were, but they went home yesterday. My father had some patients he really needed to see this week.”

  “Ah, so he’s a physician?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay, well, um, do you need anything? It must be hard getting around right now.”

  His mother had stocked his fridge and cupboards, so he didn’t need anything, but he wasn’t about to pass up an opportunity. “Well, actually, there is one thing I could use.”

  “Sure. What is it?”

  “Toothpaste.” Mark closed his eyes and shook his head. It had been the first thing to come to his mind and he had just blurted it out. He had a whole tube of the stuff in the bathroom, but now she was going to think he was sitting here with plaque-coated teeth.

  She laughed. “Toothpaste? Any particular brand?”

  “No, just something minty.” As if ninety-nine percent of them weren’t minty. Another brilliant answer. He was on a roll.

  “Okay. One tube of minty toothpaste. Got it. I hope this isn’t a toothpaste emergency or anything, because I just remembered I have to run by my sister’s house tonight, but I’m off tomorrow, so I could come by about mid-morning.”

  “Tomorrow is fine. I’ll…I’ll just give the tube I have another squeeze up from the bottom. I’m sure there’s enough to get by.” He didn’t want her to think he was skipping on brushing or anything. He gave her his address and told her to buzz and to give him a little time to get to the buzzer.

  After hanging up, he almost did a jig — he would have if he had been able to. Instead, he made do with a fist pump.

  * * *

  Mark leaned on the refrigerator door searching for something he could offer Jessica when she arrived. Milk. No. Beer. Nope, it was too early and it didn’t feel right. Orange juice? Nah. Well, he could offer it as a last resort, but it wasn’t something someone sat around sipping. Ah! Paydirt. A small pitcher of iced tea hid behind the gallon of milk. His mom loved the stuff and must have made it before they left. He wasn’t much of an iced tea drinker, but he was glad to have it on hand. He slid open the lunch meat drawer. Turkey and pastrami. He spotted some bagged greens in the bottom drawer. He didn’t know why he was wondering about all this. It wasn’t like she mentioned staying for lunch. In all likelihood, she would drop off the toothpaste and leave.

  When the buzzer sounded a little before eleven, he let her into the building then ran a hand through his hair. Sheesh. It wasn’t like he had never spoken to a woman before and he was ready to evict the butterflies in his stomach. At the tentative knock, he made himself pause a few seconds before opening the door so she wouldn’t think he had been standing right by it waiting for her.

  As soon as he opened the door, she tilted a box of toothpaste towards him. “One tube of minty toothpaste.” The corners of her mouth tilted up and her eyes sparkled.

  Mark took the tube and swept his hand out. “Thank you. Come on in.”

  Jessica glanced around after stepping in. “Nice place. I like the wood and brick accents.”

  “Thanks. It’s one of those converted warehouses. My studio is on the first floor, but sometimes I do shoots right up here because of the great lighting.” He gestured to the large arched windows. “I just shove the sofa out of the way and I can use the brick as a backdrop.” He was rambling and shut his mouth before he made a fool of himself.

  “I see.” She stood, her weight shifting from one foot to the next.

  “Speaking of the sofa, have a seat. Would you like something to drink? Iced tea? Water? Orange juice?”

  She started to sit, but then straightened. “Iced tea sounds good, but let me get it myself. You’re the injured one. I should be waiting on you.”

  Mark waved her back. “No, I’m fine. I need to work my leg as much as I can. Besides, I’ve had enough of people waiting on me. It’s not nearly as appealing as it sounds.”

  She
nodded. “Yeah, I guess that can get old fast, but at least let me help.” She followed him as he limped into the kitchen. “When I saw your wound, I would not have expected you to be up and around, doing this well this soon. You’re tougher than you look.”

  Heat climbed Mark’s cheeks at the backhanded compliment. He decided to play along with the teasing. “So, are you saying I don’t look tough?” Turning, he straightened to appear as tall as possible, and did the muscle man flex with his arms, his face a stern mask.

  Bursting out in laughter, she shook her head. “That’s not what I meant, but now that you mention it, if that’s your ‘mean’ look, you better work on it a bit. I think even a shy five year old wouldn’t be afraid of you.”

  “Aw man, that hurts!” Mark shook his head in mock despair and pulled the iced tea out of the fridge.

  “Where are the glasses?” Jessica stood in front of the cabinets, her eyebrow raised.

  “The one on your right.” He removed a tray of ice cubes and set them on the breakfast bar alongside the pitcher.

  She took two glasses and brought them over. For her, he would drink iced tea. After he had poured two glasses, he pulled a bar stool out from under the bar and slid a second one out for her. “We can sit here instead of the sofa. Honestly, it’s easier for me to sit here.” He sat with a sigh.

  “Great view!”

  He was so used to the sight of Lake Michigan in the distance, he had forgotten how lucky he was to have an east view that wasn’t impeded by other buildings. By some stroke of luck, there was a thin corridor of low buildings which stretched between his loft and the lakefront. While he was far enough away that the lake was just a thin blue strip, on a clear day like this, it was beautiful.

  “Yeah. I got lucky. This building hardly ever has vacant apartments, but I knew the guy who was leaving. He was a photographer too, but decided to pack up and move to New York to try his hand there. He gave me the tip that this apartment and the studio would both become available. Before that, I had a really dingy studio west of here and a small apartment on the other side of the Kennedy. It was a hassle to go back and forth from the studio to the apartment, so even though it costs a bit more, it was worth it.” There he was, rambling again.

  “Well, it’s really nice.”

  After that, they fell into an easy conversation. They compared notes about their neighborhoods, she offered a cute story about her little niece, and he told stories about growing up in a small town in Wisconsin and how he had been so naïve when he had first moved to Chicago.

  Before he knew it, they were making sandwiches. She chose turkey and cheese, with spinach, on wheat bread, and he picked pastrami, cheese and mustard on rye. He said a silent thank you to his mom for leaving him so well stocked. He normally was lucky to have a loaf of white bread that wasn’t moldy, let alone a choice of wheat or rye. When he told her that he had no idea what else he had, and explained about his mom’s shopping expedition, Jessie—that’s what she said to call her—laughed and did a little detective work in his fridge, finding red grapes and strawberries, which they added to their meal.

  Mark mentioned the wonderful food he had eaten in Afghanistan and that seemed to pique Jessie’s interest.

  “I kept copies of some of my best photos from the trip, but the rest I gave to my friend, Mohommad. The book is his idea. I was just there to help with the photos. If he ever gets it published, I’ll get a percent of the royalty, but it’s been a few years, and doubt it’ll ever hit a bookstore’s shelves.”

  She shuffled through the photos, stopping on some, her face serious and full of concern. “These are…I want to say gorgeous, but that’s not quite right.” Holding a photo showing one of the burqa-clad beggars, she shook her head and finished her thought, “Unreal. That’s what they are. Unreal.”

  Mark told her about the trip, about the stark beauty of the land, and the friendliness of the people towards visitors, but how it contrasted with the brutality he had witnessed.

  It was midafternoon when she glanced at her watch and mentioned having an errand to run before traffic got too bad, Mark felt a pang of disappointment. It had been the most pleasant afternoon he had experienced in a long time, and he didn’t want it to end. Asking a woman out on a date wasn’t new to him, but this was different because he had screwed up the first date with Jessica and only a brave woman would dare to take another chance after that fiasco. One thing in his favor was that she was a cop, and that meant she was brave. His courage fortified with that rationalization, he limped beside her to the door. He reached into his back pocket for his wallet and pulled out a five-dollar bill.

  “Here — for the toothpaste. I appreciate that you took the time to get it for me.”

  Jessie covered his hand with her hand, not allowing him to remove any bills, and smiled. “That’s okay. There’s no charge this time.” The smile faltered and she shrugged. “Besides, I feel like I sort of owed you one. If I would have listened to your warning, you might not have been shot in the first place.”

  The last thing he had expected was an apology, and even though she hadn’t really said she was sorry, it was pretty close. “You don’t owe me anything. I didn’t have any proof for you.”

  She tilted her head. “Why did you go back there if you knew there would be a shooting?”

  He almost told her, but decided to use the answer as an enticement to go out with him. “You know, I could tell you all about my motivations over dinner…soon.”

  “We’ve been down that road before, Mark.”

  “I know, and I wouldn’t blame you for saying no, but I can promise that nothing like before will happen this time.” He felt comfortable making that promise because he was out of commission for a while.

  The seriousness left her eyes and she crossed her arms and gave him a flirty grin. “You promise? I suppose we could try one more time. What evening would be a good evening for you to confess your reasons for going back?”

  Score! Grinning, he said, “Friday? About seven? Any place in particular you’d like to go?”

  She shook her head. “Surprise me.”

  “Okay. I can do that.”

  “Can you drive like that?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. Good thing it wasn’t my right leg.” He resisted the strong urge to kiss her goodbye, not wanting to rush her. He would save their first kiss for their date. And this date would be a hundred times better than the first one. Still, it felt awkward standing there, and when she made a move to give him a hug, he leaned into it, wrapping an arm around her. “I’ll call you.”

  * * *

  Mark tried to open the car door for Jessie, but his injured leg slowed him down, and by the time he circled the car, she was already out. It was a good thing too, because the valet had barely let her get out before he drove the Jeep down the street.

  Jessie raised an eyebrow at the retreating vehicle. “Wow, he was in a hurry.”

  “I guess I should have driven my Bentley instead of the beater.”

  She smiled. “A Bentley, huh?”

  When he grinned, she caught her breath. The man cleaned up very well, and dressed in a charcoal suit and tie, he could have passed for a movie star. She was glad she had decided to wear her royal blue dress after all. She had almost chosen a more casual dress, but had changed her mind at the last second.

  He held his hand out, inviting her to walk a step ahead of him. His hand was warm through her gown as it rested lightly at the small of her back. He did a quick hobble step to reach in front of her to open the door and she almost told him it was okay, that she knew it was hard for him to do these things right now, but she held her tongue, not wanting to embarrass him. She already noted that he was limping less tonight, so maybe his leg was just healing faster than she thought it would.

  Besides, she could get used to this kind of treatment. Being a detective and surrounded by a bunch of guys at work, it was inevitable that they began treating her like one of them. On one hand, it was exactly what she had wante
d – to be one of the guys— but just because she was a cop didn’t mean she didn’t want to be treated as a woman when out on a date. She had dated a few police officers, but they had been coarse, like they were on a stakeout instead of a date, and she hadn’t repeated the outings with any of them.

  “This is beautiful, Mark.” She took in the mahogany chairs and matching trim, gold accents and deep red walls. The ceiling was white but had a large oval painted red, giving the illusion that the ceiling was domed. The tables were covered in snowy white linen, keeping the room from appearing too dark, and gilt framed art adorned the walls.

  The maître d’ showed them to their table, and after he left, Jessie set her small purse on the table and glanced around at the full restaurant. Her mouth watered at the scent of fresh bread and other aromas that wafted from the kitchen. On a cop’s salary, she didn’t normally eat in a really nice restaurant. “The food must be amazing here.”

  Mark appeared to be taking it all in too. “I hope so. I’ve heard good things about it.”

  “I’m sure it is. I mean, look at all these people. They must know something, right?”

  The waiter appeared and asked if they would like a drink to start. Mark raised an eyebrow at her. “Jessie? Do you have a preference?”

  “A Chardonnay would be nice.”

  Mark chose a Scotch. They made small talk while waiting for their drinks and the conversation was a little stilted.

  Once the drinks arrived and they had placed their orders, Jessie swirled the wine and took a sip, then set it down. “So…you promised me details.”