by Riker, Becky
She turned back to the sauce she was making on the stove.
Josie picked up a piece of asparagus and held it up to Tag’s mouth. He smiled as he bit into it.
She neatly popped the rest of it into her own mouth.
Molly spun around at the same time that they looked down at the task at hand.
“Are you eating the food?”
“Hmm?” Josie questioned her sister in the most innocent tone possible.
“Josephine Hope,” Molly put her hands on her hips.
“Josephine?” Tag nearly choked on the bite he was trying to swallow.
“Don’t even consider mocking the name,” she warned. “I might start to call you – ”
“Fine!” he interrupted her. “No Josephine.”
“I don’t mind being called Josephine,” that woman assured him. “It was my grandmother’s name. I don’t think Tha. . .” she glanced at her sister’s back, “Why don’t you like your name?”
He stopped working and faced her, “Can you imagine the teasing? My older brother nicknamed me Tag when we were about five and three.”
“Why?”
He lifted one shoulder in a lazy shrug, “I think it was his favorite game, and he could never make the T-H sound anyway.”
“Now I’m curious,” Molly turned around. “What is your name?”
He sighed and shook his head, “Can we change the subject?”
“Yes,” Molly’s eyes met Josie’s in a question. Josie was afraid of what that might be. “Let’s talk about something else. Like why you aren’t at work today, Jo.”
“The harness for my fall snapped yesterday, so they had to get a new one.”
“How did it break?” Molly interjected.
Josie didn’t bother responding to that, knowing her sister would not care for the answer.
“They couldn’t get a replacement until this afternoon, so they decided to wait for that scene tomorrow. We’re almost done with the action scenes anyway.”
“Then what will you do?” Tag put the last roll on the tray and reached for a second tray.
“I have a commercial lined up, and then there is a possibility of a television show.”
“T.V?”
“It isn’t set in stone yet.”
“What show?”
She shook her head, “I would tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.”
He snorted.
Molly turned back to glare at him, “Are you blowing your germs all over my asparagus rolls?”
Josie smirked at him.
After the asparagus was gone, Molly showed them how to assemble the chicken appetizers. It was a slightly more complex process as it contained more ingredients. Josie thought it may be considered some kind of torture to ask them to work with delicious-smelling food without feeding them first.
“This chicken is really good,” Tag leaned toward Josie and whispered in her ear as soon as Molly stepped into the bathroom.
She ignored the goosebumps caused by his breath on her neck and whispered back, “Don’t tell her that.”
He frowned, “Why?”
She glanced at the closed door, “Cause then she’d know you were eating it.”
He smiled and popped another piece in his mouth. Josie rolled her eyes at his blatant disregard for Molly’s warning.
“So,” he stopped working to look at her, “what did happen to the harness?”
She hesitated a moment before answering, “It got caught in some gears.”
He jerked back a little, “Gears?”
“See I was up on top of the roof and the gears were down here,” she held her hands up to demonstrate, “and then I jumped through the skylight.”
“Wait,” he waved his hand, “you actually went through the skylight? It wasn’t just a set?”
She shook her head, “There wasn’t a good way to make it look realistic otherwise. Anyway, I got half way down, and I was going really slowly, of course, and my foot hit a piece of the machinery.”
Tag glanced to the door to see if Molly was coming out yet.
She wasn’t, but Josie lowered her voice anyway.
“The sound was really loud, and it echoed up above. The guys thought that was the cue for letting go of someone else’s line, but I wasn’t out of the way. Andy came down on top of me.”
“You were both still in harnesses?” he clarified, popping another piece of chicken in his mouth.
She nodded, “And there wasn’t really any place for me to go, but if you see a guy come barreling down on you, you try to move. I wiggled around and reached for a beam to get out of the way. I got myself out of the way fine, but my lines were right under him, and he got tangled up in them.”
Tag cringed.
She nodded, “I went flying after him, and my lines got tangled with his as well as in the gears.”
He groaned in empathy.
“I was about five feet from the ground when I hit the gear itself and tore my harness.”
“How’d you land?”
She grinned, “On Andy.”
Tag laughed at that, “Lucky guy.”
Josie blushed.
He pretended not to notice as he went back to working.
She decided to change the subject, “You know, Tag, my dad could probably look at your file.”
“What for?” he continued to slice pickles.
“To determine if there is anything that indicates you are a woman-hater.”
“Tag’s a woman-hater?” Molly came from the bathroom.
Josie glanced over her shoulder, “Not that I know of.”
Tag set down his knife and looked at Molly, brows gathered, “You’ve known me for a year, Molly. Have I ever given you a reason to believe I was a woman-hater?”
Josie did not know Tag well enough to determine if he was offended, but he did look serious all of a sudden. She guessed he might be a little insulted.
“Actually,” Molly answered him as she wrapped the chicken with the pickles and dill, “promiscuity and frequent but non-committed relationships are often signs of distrust of women. It would stand to reason that the distrust would be linked to a hatred for women.”
Tag’s eyes widened, “Who said I was promiscuous?”
Molly lifted the pan from the stove and set it in the sink to soak, “Not that I am going to admit to paying attention, Tag, but you have occasionally had a different girl up here every day of the week.”
“That doesn’t mean I’m promiscuous. It means I date a lot.”
“I apologize,” she looked him in the eye. “I should not assume I know what you are doing with those ladies. However, my point still stands. You are either shying away from commitment or you are dating more than one woman at a time.”
“I’ve never even implied to a woman that she was the only one.”
“So you don’t distrust women?”
“I don’t think so.”
Molly pulled a pan of sausage puffs from the oven, “Sometimes our behavior speaks for itself.”
Josie boosted herself up on the stool and started picking up the leftover pieces of chicken and popping them in her mouth, “I don’t suppose Molly ever told you that she has a degree in psychology from NYU.”
Tag assisted her in the cleanup, “No. Was that how you got into catering?”
Both women laughed at the joke.
“I wanted to go to a culinary school, but my parents thought I should have something to fall back on when my dream didn’t pan out. I graduated about a year before I met you, but by then the catering business had taken off.”
He looked at Josie, “And you have a degree in nursing, I suppose?”
“No. I took two years at NYU but gave it up when my work schedule began to conflict with my class schedule.”
“What did you want to do?”
“Anything but school,” Josie responded with a shake of her head. “I got through my classes on a wink and a prayer.”
“Your grades weren’t that bad, Josie,” Molly wiped down th
e counters. “You would be fine if you went back.”
Josie looked at Tag, “My sister is convinced that I am going to regret not finishing school.”
“Why?”
“Because I won’t have anything to do once this job runs out.”
“That’s not it,” Molly argued. “I just think you might get tired of dangling fifty feet off the ground, hoping the strap will hold, worrying about whether the guy at the bottom will remember to put the landing pad in the right place, or praying that the wind won’t change.”
Josie didn’t respond. She had heard it all before.
Tag spoke up, “If you ever decide you need a change of pace, you can come work for us. We could use someone like you to chase down the slippery ones.”
Josie pointed a spatula at him, “How will you know they are slippery before you go chase them?”
He shrugged, “You can join my team.”
Molly scowled at the man, “Don’t give her any ideas.”
“Too late for that,” Josie hopped to her feet.
“You headed out?” Molly asked.
“I am,” Josie opened the fridge and took out a bottle of water. “I don’t want to be late.”
Tag turned to look at her, “To what?”
Molly laughed, “You should take him with you.”
“I will not,” Josie backed toward the door. “Can you imagine the trouble I’d be in if I brought a cop with me?”
“Take a cop where?” he quickly repositioned himself so he was between her and the door.
“You know I don’t have to go out that way, don’t you?” she smirked at him.
“I know that I locked that window when I was in here last week,” he shoved his hands into his pockets. “And it was sticky. Not saying you couldn’t get it open, but I’d get to you before you’d get out.”
“And then what?” she was considering making an attempt at escape just to see if he could catch her.
Tag had Josie locked to himself so fast, she didn’t know what hit her.
“I’m not used to people who can move like you do, Josie,” his right arm was pressed firmly against her back, forcing their chests together. His other hand gripped both her wrists, “but it doesn’t mean I can’t adapt.”
She laughed despite being pinned, “Sorry for underestimating you.”
“I doubt you did,” he didn’t loosen his hold.
Josie shook her head, “I know when I’m beat.”
“Liar,” he let go anyway.
She raised her eyebrows.
He elaborated, “You and I both know you were about to get out of that.”
She had a few tricks up her sleeve, it was true, but the way he was holding her felt more intimate than the grips she had escaped in self-defense classes. She wasn’t sure she wanted to be released.
“How did you think I was going to get out of it?”
“I don’t know,” he stepped away from the door, “that’s why I let go.”
Both women laughed at his uneasy expression.
Josie opened the door and walked out, “You can come if you want, but you’d better not tell people you’re a cop.”
Tag followed her down the stairs and out onto the sidewalk.
“So, who are we going to meet?”
“A parkour group. It was recently made illegal in Battery Park, so the members are a little anti-cop right now.”
“They won’t expect me to do those jumps or flips, will they?”
Josie glanced up at him to see if he was serious, “You afraid of hurting yourself?”
“Absolutely,” he fell easily into step next to her. “I’m pretty cautious.”
She blew a noise between her lips, “So you became a cop?”
“It isn’t even on the list anymore.”
She had no idea what he was talking about, “What list?”
“Of the top ten dangerous jobs. There’s a list, and being a cop isn’t on it.”
“What’s the most dangerous job?”
“Being a fisherman.”
She angled her head toward him, “No way. Really?”
“Yep,” he nodded, “steel workers, loggers, pilots – all more dangerous than being a cop.”
“Huh.”
“Even taxi drivers have a greater chance of being killed or injured than cops now.”
She had to ask, “So, I suppose you’re considering changing professions now?”
Tag threw back his head and laughed at that, “Only on the bad days.”
She saw the group ahead of them, “There they are.”
Tag nodded.
“And if anyone asks, tell them you’re a fisherman.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Tag enjoyed watching the group practice their art. They seemed respectful of the bystanders, so he had no problem with keeping his mouth shut about it.
Josie convinced him to try some of the more simple moves. He fell a few times, but by the end, he had mastered one of the jumps.
They waved goodbye to the group and began walking away from the park.
He wished he dared take her hand, but he was pretty sure she’d either deck him or throw him neatly to the ground.
He settled for starting a conversation, “That was fun.”
“I thought so too. You were a good sport about those guys teaching you.”
“You know, it would probably be a useful thing for the department to learn some of those moves.”
Josie looked up at him, and he got the feeling she wasn’t really thinking about parkour.
“What?” he hoped he wasn’t going to hate what she said.
“Are you really a player?”
That was a surprise, “A player?”
“A flirt, philanderer, a womanizer.”
He sighed.
“It’s true, huh?”
He didn’t know what to say. He liked the company of women, but he had never dated anyone seriously.
“It’s okay, you know,” she walked toward her building. “I don’t think it means you have an underlying hatred for women.”
He followed her, “That’s good to know.”
“It sounds lonely,” she surprised him again.
“Lonely?”
“Don’t you crave connection? You can’t get that with someone you just met.”
“You aren’t dating anyone either,” he pointed out the obvious.
“But I have a better connection than any earthly one.”
“I guess I didn’t realize you shared the same religious beliefs as your sister.”
“Religion has nothing to do with it. It’s a relationship.”
He shoved his hands into his jeans’ pockets, “Are you saying that you would give up your religion if you had a romantic attachment?”
“No,” she seemed comfortable with the conversation. “I’m not even saying that an earthly connection can come close to the communion that a Christian can have with Jesus, but I would think that someone who doesn’t have a relationship with Christ would be looking for a substitute.”
He shook his head, “I have plenty of meaningful relationships. They just aren’t romantic.”
“Which is probably for the best,” she grinned at him as they reached the point where their paths would diverge, “considering what that woman would have to put up with.”
“You interested in going to get some supper?”
She shook her head, “No thanks. I have plans.”
He was curious about what those plans were, but he didn’t ask. He had already taken up a good deal of her day. Besides, he wanted to get back home so he could call Lowell again about that file.
Lowell didn’t seem annoyed by the request for Tag’s files– just curious.
“I don’t know why you want another shrink lookin’ at your file. One is bad enough.”
Tag knew it sounded crazy, “I think Hanson has her own issues, and I should have the right to a second opinion.”
“I’ll get them for you tomorrow.”
&nbs
p; Lowell did get the transcripts from Tag’s visit. Dr. Hanson refused to give up her notes, however.
Three days later, Tag got a call from Molly.
“You busy?”
“Not really,” he finished wiping down his gun and put the oil and rag in the cupboard.
“Do you mind if I come over there? My dad is here, and he’d like to talk to you.”
“To tell me I really am misogynistic, I suppose.”
“I doubt it.”
“Door’s open,” he said before hanging up.
“Hi, Tag. This is my dad, Sol Drake.”
Tag rose as they entered, “Dr. Drake, it’s nice to meet you.”
The other man extended his hand to grip Tag’s, “Nice to meet you too, Officer Madden.”
“Please,” Tag pointed to the couch in an indication that the other man should have a seat, “it’s just Tag.”
Drake smiled, “Strange. You wanted Dr. Hanson to call you Officer Madden.”
“And what do you get from that?”
“That you were annoyed and a bit defensive.”
“Anything else?”
“I don’t think you’re a woman-hater if that’s what you are getting at.”
“I don’t think I am either, but it doesn’t matter what I think. If she thinks I am, I’ve got problems.”
Drake glanced at his daughter. She smiled and stood up.
“I’m going to go check on my spinach puffs.”
Tag wondered what the psychologist was about to say.
“How old a woman is Dr. Hanson?”
Tag shrugged, “I’m not sure. Late thirties, early forties maybe.”
“Married?”
“No. At least I don’t think so. I’ve never talked to her except when the department made me.”
“I think she finds you attractive and is annoyed by your behavior and, also, looking for a way to spend more time with you.”
“I doubt it,” Tag hoped the man was wrong.
“I wasn’t sure until I listened to the tape.”
“Listened to the tape?”
“I got a copy of the session recordings. Sometimes you can tell more by tone of voice than by the transcripts.”
“How’d you manage that?”
“I asked your sergeant for it when I mentioned my suspicion.”
Tag groaned, “You didn’t really.”
“I did.”
Tag buried his face in his hands, “I will never hear the end of this.”
