“Speaking of,” Jeremy said, “forgot to tell you. You know how these two assholes were talking about how we were all looking for a dog together?”
“I do,” I answered. “Well,” he continued, “turns out they went and got one without me. One that pees everywhere. And then named him Jeremy.”
“We still need to potty train him,” Noah said diplomatically.
“The dog looks older than I do,” Jeremy said, unrepentant.
“He’s just a little mangy,” Noah argued.
I couldn’t help but laugh. Noah had been right, they did like to give one another shit. Noah was smiling. Leaning in, he admitted, “A few years back, I went through a brief… I guess you could call it a hippie phase.”
Jeremy snorted so hard he started choking. Swallowing with difficulty, he clarified, “Try two years. And that beard was like Santa Claus' and gnarly as all hell.”
“Okay, okay, children,” Peter said, striding through the door, “Cut it out.”
“Yes, old man,” Jeremy said, swallowing the last of his pizza.
“Jeremy was actually just calling us children,” Noah added. “And bitching about the new dog.”
Peter’s face remained nonplussed. “Jeremy’s a work in progress.”
At this, Jeremy stormed up, grabbing his pizza plate and shoving it in a nearby garbage bin. “Can you guys please stop calling the dog that. It’s kind of confusing, and a little humiliating to be honest.”
“You may have a point,” Peter said, with a smile that indicated he’d named the dog for just this purpose. “Anyway, it’s probably time we get to the club. It’s Beyoncé night, and you know how popular those nights get.”
“Yeah,” Noah confirmed. “I’d rather not wait outside in line until the show’s over like last time.”
“A minor mix-up in timing,” Peter said airily.
Arriving to the club, sure enough, there was already a line, but it didn’t seem too long.
The wind had picked up, so it was cool outside. I wrapped my arms around myself, wishing that I’d not only chosen the cuter top to wear, but a long sleeve one at that.
“Here.” Something warm was placed on my shoulders. A coat.
“She doesn’t want your giant prim blazer,” Jeremy said, lifting off the jacket and shoving it at Peter. “Here.” He placed his jacket on my shoulders, and I giggled.
In the end, I ended up wearing Jeremy’s coat, and the line moved fast. By the time we got to the front of it and inside, the music was only just starting.
“Cool,” Jeremy said. “Looks like the bar’s pretty nice and empty, too.” He glanced at me. “Want something?”
He’s just asking as a friend, I reminded myself.
“Sure,” I said. “I’ll have one.”
I came back to find Jeremy with three drinks.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he protested, “The other two are for my brothers.”
Sure enough, a minute or so later, as I sipped at mine, Peter and Noah returned from the bathroom, claiming theirs. We clinked our bottles and then drank away, while Jeremy showed me around the place, from the unused poorly lit patio out back, to the random and well used couches dotting the grungy interior. All this he did with his arm linked casually around mine, while the heat of his forearm crackled through my skin.
“You going to give her a tour of the place all night, or are we going to dance?” Noah sauntered up to us, followed by Peter.
“Alright,” I agreed, before Jeremy could come up with some retort.
On the dance floor, a few heads turned as we approached. It suddenly occurred to me that we must’ve seemed an odd group. The brothers looked alike, but I looked nothing like them. People were probably wondering if we were siblings or if I was there with all of them. The thought tugged a smile on to my lips. Little old me with three hot-as-hell police boyfriends. Yeah, that would be something to see.
As it stood, I wasn’t exactly crazy about being stared at, so I concentrated on dancing to the music. Which turned out to be a little bit hard, considering the brothers antics. Jeremy and Peter seemed content to fist pump for the time being, while Noah’s dance moves ranged from the ambitious to the downright ludicrous. His combination of break-dancing with funny disco dancing with Madonna voguing ended up garnering us quite a crowd of excited spectators.
“He really did choose the wrong job,” Jeremy commented sardonically as we watched. I couldn’t help chuckling along with Peter. As we watched Noah get down, I felt someone sidle up to me.
I felt something slide around my waist and press against my butt. I turned around to see a pale man with dreads and beady eyes grinning at me. I stepped away. He sidled up next to me again and spoke to me with funky breath. “That your boyfriend or something?”
“No,” I said.
He considered this, his eyes roving about in a way that made me feel almost violated. “What about that one or that one then?” His head jabbed to Jeremy and then Peter. Once again, I shook my head. “I don’t have a boyfriend. But I’m not looking to date anyone right now.”
The man cracked a missing-tooth grin, like he just found out our horoscopes were aligned. “Who said anything about dating?”
“Hey buddy,” Jeremy said, striding up to me. “I don’t think she’s interested.”
He looked to me. “Right?”
“Right,” I said.
The man scowled, stalking off.
“Sorry about that,” Jeremy said, “I turn my back on you for one second and you’re basically molested.”
I smiled. “It wasn’t that bad.”
“Still.” Jeremy took a step closer, and I could almost feel his breath on my skin. “You’re my partner. I’ve got to look out for you.”
Part of me wondered just how far he wanted to look out for me.
Jeremy gestured to Peter and to Noah, who was slowing down with his crazy dance moves.
“Our mission for tonight: protect Blair.”
“Who says she wants to be protected?” Peter said. “She’s a grown woman and a cop. Not a fifteen-year-old damsel in distress.”
“Really,” I told him, “I’m fine.
But Jeremy insisted on positioning me in the middle of the circle of them. I wasn’t exactly complaining. The stares we were still gathering were a bit funny and amusing. Did people actually think that I could be with these three men at once? Though the thought of it wasn’t unappealing.
Not to mention being so close to the brothers, being able to joke with Jeremy and chat with Noah, and hear a quip of Peter’s, was fun.
While Jeremy went off to get another drink, Noah pulled me aside. “He didn’t show you the upstairs did he?”
“There’s an upstairs?” I asked.
Noah nodded.
Going upstairs wasn’t exactly as easy as Noah had made it seem. We had to go into a hallway that had a sign that said Employees Only, and then continue up a staircase that also said, Employees Only.
“Don’t worry about those,” Noah said. “I worked here for a summer. No one comes down that hallway or comes up here.”
“Worse comes to worst, we can always tell them we were looking for the bathroom.”
The way he said it sounded serious, but it wasn’t until he started cracking up that I joined in. Now we were all the way up the stairs, and in a section that looked as different from the club’s first level as night to day. This second level was singular. It was white and clean almost to the point of looking sterile. Flickering on the fluorescent lights caused me a momentary stint of blindness, although my eyes quickly recuperated and got used to the difference in lighting.
“It’s an art gallery,” I realized, looking at the canvases around me. “A really good one, actually.”
Typically, I didn’t care for most of what constituted as modern art, pretentious primary color displays, or odd scrambles of images juxtaposed and with the meaning too deep for common people to understand, or so the artist claimed. But this was different. T
hese landscapes were done in an almost impressionistic style, different cityscapes, with an effect that reminded me of rainy days walking home in the city. Seeing stretches of road and pavement as glittering arenas of shining light. They were beautiful.
“They’re beautiful,” I said.
“You think?” Noah had his head turned to one landscape in particular, so I couldn't make out his face when he said, “I made them.”
I waited for the laugh that never came. Then, I asked, “Really?”
He nodded, turning so that I could see he was smiling vaguely. “Over the past two years, it’s been a hobby of mine. Helps me relax when it gets too rough on the job.”
“Which isn't as often as you think,” he added quickly, seeing my face.
“Why do I get the impression from you and your brothers that you don’t think I can fend for myself? I went through the Academy same as you.”
The way they’d acted after driving me home from the bar, insisting on walking me to the door. Then back in the dance club, acting as though I couldn’t tell off creepy guys myself. And even then, the worry on Noah’s face as he spoke of the dark dangers of the job.
“I’m sorry,” Noah said. “It’s probably because mom was always big on us being overly chivalrous. Opening doors for girls, making sure we paid on dates. Stuff like that.”
“Okay,” I said. “There's chivalry, and then there’s overdoing it and being patronizing.”
“You think I was being patronizing?” Now Noah was the one being genuinely curious.
“No,” I said, after a minute. “I mean, some of it’s verging on it. But I think I’m just a bit tired and grumpy myself.”
“I hear you.” Noah nudged me with his elbow and kept it there, touching me. “Shopping for socks really takes it out of me.”
I laughed. “Not that. Just… I’ve been trying to fit in going to the gym with the new job. And sometimes end up going pretty late. Just wipes me out.”
“Yeah,” Noah said. “I don't like going to the gym at work either. Too many of my coworkers commenting on how I should be doing this exercise and should be doing that exercise. Or just making jokes all the time.”
“Kinda like you with your brothers?” I asked.
He smiled ruefully. “Kinda, yeah.”
The silence that followed was surprisingly comfortable. I realized this was probably the longest uninterrupted conversation I’d had with Noah yet, and I was really enjoying it. He had a carefree, accepting air that put me at ease, making me feel like whatever I said would be okay somehow. Then, of course, there was the fact that he was the kind of good-looking that, I realized, I would’ve pegged as an artist if I hadn’t known he was a cop. His hair was dark and was tousled just right, and his full lips looked moody and conveyed most of his emotion. Like then, apparently deep in thought, they were pursed.
Turning to me, his eyes hyper-focused on my face.
“You know, Blair,” he started.
“You two go on a little adventure and don’t invite me?” a familiar voice said.
Jeremy walked into the room, stopping at the sight of us. I suddenly realized how he must have seen it.
8
Jeremy
What the hell? Blair and Noah? The way they were standing just a little too close and the way the air seemed to crackle around them, left me with the impression that I had walked in on something that had either just happened, or was just about to.
It was awkward. Not to mention annoying. What happened to brotherly loyalty?
“Noah,” I said lightly, not knowing what I was going to say until it came out, “Trying to steal my partner, eh?”
Noah only tilted his head at me. “Is it stealing if she comes with me of her own volition?”
“We’ll see what Chief has to say about this,” I said, although we both knew I was talking out of my ass. The last thing in the world I wanted to do, on any given day, was give the Chief another reason to ream me out. From wearing a collared shirt with a missing button, to leaving a witness too long in the interrogation room, over the years my various transgressions had built up, as well as my awareness of just how volatile the Chief could be when she was pissed off.
“Anyway,” I said. “If you really wanted to show Blair your art collection, you should take her into your room and show her those 50 odd canvases you have crammed in your closet.”
Another awkward pause. Why exactly had I said that? Was I trying to actually get her there? The idea was tempting, but obviously idiotic. Yes, she was attractive, and yes, I was attracted to her. But no, in no way, shape or form, had I thought that anything should come of it.
“Should we get back downstairs?” Blair said.
Once we got back there, Peter was waiting for us with unwelcome news. “I called us a cab.”
“What?” I protested. I checked my phone. “Dude. It’s like midnight.”
“Yeah, and we have work tomorrow.”
“Peter’s right,” Blair agreed. “I said I'd only stay for a bit and it’s already been much longer than that.”
“All right,” I said, seeing that to argue was useless. “Guess we'll cab then.”
Inside the cab, Peter graciously took the front, while Noah and I got to cram in the back beside Blair. She was wedged up against me and I wasn’t complaining.
“Oh, by the way, Blair, I should tell you. The Chief asked me how you were doing after shift today and I told her you were ready for more than speed traps,” I said.
“You’ll be thankful for writing boring ass speeding tickets when you get shot in the arm by a Portuguese drug dealer,” Peter said grimly, scratching at his arm.
Blair shot a glance at him in interest. “That’s horrible.”
Peter shrugged. “That’s the job.” He turned to deliver me a significant look.
“Yeah, yeah,” I said, although his words had given me pause. No way was I wanting Blair put in that level of danger.
I turned to direct my gaze out the window, while the others chatted. It was ridiculous, and a bit demeaning, I realized. Not taking Blair seriously like that, just because she was an attractive woman. But I couldn’t help it. Right then, my whole body was tensed with the realization of what Peter had said.
A few minutes later, we pulled up in front of Blair’s building and she gave us all a hug. I tried to extend it as long as possible, enjoying the Hibiscus sent of her hair in my nose. When we finally peeled away, the way she looked at me made me wonder if I had been imagining that she had extended the hug too.
“See you tomorrow,” she told me.
“See you tomorrow,” we chorused.
For most of the ride home, we were all silent. I thought about how hot Blair had looked dancing, how her smile lit up the room, and how the rage had thrummed though me when that scum had hit on her.
Peter finally broke the silence., “You guys are being stupid.”
His words had the effect of a proclamation by a judge. There was no need to ask what he was talking about. The way Noah had whisked Blair upstairs, the way I’d felt when I’d seen them together. There was no way this could end well. Any attraction that any of us had for her, had to be cut off at the neck. We were coworkers, and coworkers for a tyrannical boss at that. Although the Chief was fair, she'd cut us loose in an instant if she thought we weren’t playing by her rules. The only thing that would be best for all of us would be to keep it professional at all times. Spending time together like this, we were toeing the line, and it had to stop.
That night I flung myself into bed, not even bothering to take off my clothes. Why I was so exhausted, I wasn’t sure. All I knew was that when I woke up in the morning, I felt even shadier. A migraine was scraping at the insides of my head, while my legs protested with every movement. Yet I hustled into the bathroom and scraped Crest on my teeth with a toothbrush, then hustled into my car, with a bag of Wheaties on hand for the ride there. No way was I missing work just because I felt a bit off. Besides, who would Blair be paired with if
I didn’t show?
“A robbery just caught called in,” the Chief said, walking into the room where Blair and I were meeting before shift started. “You guys on it?”
I looked to Blair, and she nodded. “We're on it.”
“Good,” she said. “Were needed there ASAP. The woman’s only a block down from the station. The suspects are armed. Put your vests on and be safe.”
Instinctively, my hand tightened on my holster.
Blair and I arrived at the scene a few minutes later. The door was already open, and a cat was poking its head out.
“Nice place here,” I commented quietly.
It looked like one of those old Victorian homes they featured in English romance movies. Right then though, Blair and I were in the middle of an action movie.
We took a few quiet steps into the house with our guns drawn. We spotted two armed suspects pointing their weapons at a scared old lady with her hands in the air.
“I told you she called the cops!” the short one shrilled.
They were both bald and had faces that were red as beets.
“Hey guys,” I said. “Lower the guns, and no one has to go get hurt.”
The tall guy looked like he was considering it, but the short bald one shook his head furiously. “No way. I’m not doing it this time. I’m not going back to prison.”
Blair stood quietly next to me, her weapon trained on the shorter of the suspects, while mine was on the taller one. “Don’t be an idiot,” the tall one said, lowering his gun while keeping his other hand up.
“We'll go quietly,” he told me. “Just don’t shoot.”
I moved toward him slowly, not relaxing until both handcuffs were clasped around his wrist.
“I mean it, Francis,” the short guy said again. “I won’t do it, I’m not going to…”
His gun swung around and the next second a blast exploded through the room.
The old woman screamed and held her hands over her ears. Ahead of us, the short bald guy was lying on the ground, his shoulder running red.
Blair was gaping at him, her gun still raised.
One Lucky Girl Page 47
