Along Came December

by Jay Allisan

  I stared back, incredulous. “My God,” I said slowly. “What have you done?”

  “I am so sorry,” he whispered, his cheeks coloring a vivid red. “I swear I was just getting this one board and then they all… I’m really sorry. I’ll clean this up.”

  I put one hand on my hip. “How do you plan on doing that? You broke the display.”

  “I, uh…” He looked at the collapsed shelf uncertainly. “Maybe I could…”

  He set his board down and grabbed the shelf with both hands, struggling fruitlessly to lift it. His eyes flickered to me and his blush deepened. He scooped up an armful of wood. “Or maybe I’ll just… I’ll just pile the boards up over here? Is that okay? I know they’re still on the floor, but at least no one will trip over them, or… or…” His shoulders slumped. “Just tell me what to do.”

  I picked my way toward him through the scattered lumber. “Put down the boards and step away from the building materials,” I said. “I’ll take it from here.”

  He frowned. “What if I—”

  “No.”

  “Can’t I just—”

  “No.”

  “But—”

  “Look, I was just giving you a hard time. This isn’t your fault, okay? And it’s definitely not your job to clean it up. Give me the boards.”

  “But it’s such a mess, and you—”

  “I work here, and therefore have the pleasure of cleaning up after our valued customers. Now hand them over.”

  He caught his lower lip between his teeth and began stacking the boards on the edge of the aisle. He glanced at me, averted his eyes quickly, and picked up another board.

  I watched him for a moment, then shrugged and began stacking, too. We worked in silence until the shorter pieces were taken care of and all that was left were the longer, awkward boards that took two people to lift.

  I picked up one end of a board as he took the other. We carried it toward free floor space.

  “Are you hurt?” I asked, setting the board down and kicking it flush against the shelving. He adjusted his end as well, turning back to the mess slow enough that I was able to catch up with him.

  “No,” he answered. “You were just teasing.”

  I stifled a smile. “I mean did any of the boards hit you when they fell.”

  “Oh. No. I’m okay.”

  We continued clearing the aisle of fallen lumber. I didn’t miss the way his eyes followed me when he thought I wasn’t looking, and I didn’t even try to hide my own analysis of him. He was just taller than me, physically fit in a functional sort of way. His hazel eyes stood out against a blush that wouldn’t fade, and he had dimples, especially when he was biting his lip.

  When the last of the boards was finally stacked, he selected a short two-by-four. “Could, uh, could you check me out?”

  I winked. “Already have.”

  His cheeks burned brightly and I grinned. He swallowed. “I meant—”

  “I know what you meant, but believe me, you’ve earned one lousy piece of wood. Take it with my blessing.”

  “But—”

  “It’s a gift, all right? I’m not ringing it up.”

  “But won’t the alarm—”

  “It’s fine. Now take it and get out of here already.”

  “Okay. Uh, thanks. Bye.”

  I watched him make his way to the exit, the board clutched to his chest. He looked back at me twice before leaving, and when the alarm went off and he sprinted for the parking lot like there was a SWAT team on his tail, I just about killed myself laughing.

  THE NEXT night was my last shift at the store, which already had me in a good mood. Things got even better with the return of my good samaritan.

  I was behind the counter, flipping through a hardware magazine, and I looked up at the sound of footsteps. We made eye contact, he lifted his hand in a tentative wave, and I went back to reading the magazine.

  I flipped the page. He stood awkwardly in front of the counter. I flipped the page. He cleared his throat.

  I glanced up. “Can I help you?”

  The blush crept up his neck and blossomed in his cheeks. “I, uh, I was in yesterday—”

  “I remember.”

  “Well…”

  I returned to the magazine. His dark shaggy hair had been combed away from his eyes, and he wore a button-down instead of yesterday’s faded t-shirt. Cologne wafted toward me and I bit back a smile.

  He tried again. “I, uh…” He withdrew a crisp bill from his pocket and held it out to me. “Here.”

  I set the magazine aside and folded my arms. “Five bucks? What kind of girl do you think I am?”

  He stared. “It’s for last night!”

  “I don’t know what you think happened last night, but five bucks—”

  “It’s for the board!” he shouted. “Just take it. Please.” He averted his gaze. “I don’t want any more trouble.”

  I put my hand over his, curling his fingers around the money. “No trouble. Just teasing, remember? And I told you the board was a gift.”

  “You said the alarm wouldn’t go off.”

  “I never did.”

  “You implied—”

  “You assumed.”

  “Would you please just take the money?” he whispered. “Please?”

  “Fine,” I said. “If that’s really what you came back for.”

  Slowly he lifted his eyes to mine, and this time they didn’t slide away. I was very aware of the warmth of his fingers beneath my palm, of the nervous press of his lips, of the earnestness bleeding off him like an aura. I was very aware of the knots in my chest when he looked at me.

  I let go of his hand. “If that’s really what you came back for, then pay me and we’ll call it square. Otherwise, just ask.”

  He looked down at the money in his hand, fingering its sharp edges. He tucked it back into his pocket. “You’re making this really difficult, you know,” he mumbled.

  “Just ask.”

  His courage came in waves, straightening his shoulders and lifting his chin, but ebbing away before he could get the words out. His fingers twitched toward his pocket.

  I beat him to it, deftly plucking the five-dollar bill from his pocket and slipping it into my own. His face fell, and a mournful sigh escaped him. He took a step back.

  I hopped up on the counter and swung myself over. “I’m Shirley,” I said. “Can I buy you a drink?”

  He blinked at me.

  “A cheap drink,” I clarified. “All I’ve got is five bucks.”

  He blinked again, and then a smile broke across his face in the most breathtaking way. “I’d like that,” he said softly. “I’d like that a lot.”

  I checked the clock. “Give me ten minutes, and then we can get out of here. Does that work for you?”

  “That’s great. That’d be great. Wait!”

  I’d begun to walk away when he grabbed my arm, dropping it the instant I turned around. He held out his hand.

  “Max,” he said. His cheeks were still flushed but his eyes were warm and happy. “I’m Max.”

  I took his hand but didn’t shake. I tugged him forward and kissed him instead, just north of friendly. His mouth dropped open in surprise, and my stomach fluttered in a way that was embarrassingly harlequin. I stepped back, working hard to keep the dopey grin off my face.

  “Ten minutes, Max. Don’t go anywhere. And don’t touch anything.”

  “THIS IS a cop bar,” Max said, looking at me in confusion. “You want to go here?”

  “Why not?” I pushed the door open and he followed me inside. I nudged him with my elbow. “Unless you’re worried you’ll get busted for stealing.”

  Max scanned the room surreptitiously before letting out a breath. “No, I was just worried I might, you know, run into someone. But it’s okay. Let’s grab a booth.”

  He wove quickly through the crowd to the back of the bar, choosing a table and gesturing for me to sit. I looked for a server to flag down, but a cute bru
nette was already headed in our direction. She gave Max a smile.

  “How are you tonight, Max?” she asked, eyeing me openly. “Expecting anyone else?”

  “I’m well, thanks,” he murmured. “And no, it’s—it’s just us.”

  “You drinking? Light beer?” He nodded, almost self-consciously. She turned to me, one hand on her hip. “And what can I get you?”

  “Same,” I answered, my eyes narrowing at Max.

  “Something to start?” the server asked. “Nachos?”

  Max chewed his lip. “No, um, not tonight.”

  “Are you sure? Last Friday of the month they’re free for—”

  “We’ll take them,” I interrupted. “His usual.”

  The server cocked an eyebrow at me but acknowledged the order. “Two light beers and a plate of nachos, hold the jalapeños. I’ll be back in two shakes.”

  As soon as she was gone I leaned across the table, pointing an accusing finger. “You’re a cop.”

  “I’m a cop,” Max admitted, looking sheepish.

  “You’re a cop. Why didn’t you say so? And how the hell did you manage that?”

  Hurt flashed in his eyes and I could have kicked myself. “Shit, I’m sorry,” I said hastily. “I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just that this city is a nightmare and you seem way too—”

  “Incompetent?” Max said quietly. “Inept?”

  He toyed with his cardboard coaster, looking like he was regretting the whole affair. I put my hands over his. “That is not what I was going to say. I was going to say you seem way too nice to be someone who puts up with that shit every day. Too kind.”

  He didn’t answer, his eyes downcast. I gave his hands a squeeze before settling back against the booth. “I like that about you, and I bet you’re a really good cop, Max. Honest.”

  He shrugged. I scrambled for something to turn the mood around. “Do you have any advice? I start at the academy next week.”

  His head lifted slowly. “You’re a cop?”

  “I will be in twenty weeks, if all goes well.” A sudden lump filled my throat at the thought of things not going well, and I swallowed quickly, smiling to cover it up. “I guess that’s why I wanted to come here tonight. To pretend I’d already made it.”

  I let my gaze drift out over the crowded bar, watching the people. Big men with beer bellies, ham-fisted mugs halfway to their mouths. Women with tired lines around their eyes, but their lips glossed up and their hair down. Young people. Old people. Rookies and veterans, working and drinking together. Happy in spite of what they did, or maybe because of it. I loved it. I wanted to be part of it.

  Our server returned, setting down cold beers and a hot plate of nachos. She hovered until Max thanked her and assured her that would be all. He took a sip of his beer, his eyes searching my face.

  “My advice,” he said at last, “is not to pretend. Just be yourself. The instructors are going to love you.”

  “Love putting me in my place, you mean,” I muttered.

  “They like confidence, and initiative. You’ll be great.”

  I nodded smally and shoveled a handful of nachos into my mouth. Max’s lips twitched as he helped himself to the nachos, too.

  “So when did you graduate?” I asked, after washing it all down with a drink. “Where do you patrol? What precinct are you with?”

  Max pressed two chips together to make a cheesy sandwich. “I graduated last year, and I’m not on patrol. I was accepted into the new accelerated program and placed with a homicide squad at Old Town.”

  I just about spewed beer out my nose. “You were in the top two percent of your graduating class? And you’re homicide at Old Town?”

  Max nodded.

  “Lieutenant Dixon?” I demanded. “Tell me you’re with Dixon.”

  He nodded again, his cheeks pinking with pleasure. I sighed enviously. “God, that’s like my dream job. If I sleep with you, will you put in a good word for me?”

  His blush turned scarlet and I laughed. “I’m just kidding, Max.” I lowered my voice. “I’d sleep with you anyway.”

  “I had a girlfriend,” he blurted suddenly. “I mean, we broke up a couple years ago, but it was pretty serious and… and I just wanted you to know.”

  “Are you warning me?” I asked, amused. “Is she going to hunt me down and take you back?”

  “No,” Max said. “I just wanted you to know.”

  I slid toward him along the curved bench of the booth. “Consider me informed.”

  Max picked up his beer bottle, then pushed it away. “Dixon’s willing to take a rookie again this year, you know. I’m sure you’ll have no trouble at the academy, but if you have any questions or anything…”

  “I’ll come to you.” I put my hand on his leg. “Thank you.”

  He ducked his head. “Just trying to help.”

  “And I appreciate it.” I held my fingers to his jaw and lifted his face. I leaned forward slowly, testing the waters, but this time he kissed me first.

  11

  July

  “THIS IS a fancy restaurant.”

  “Do you like it?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never been here before.”

  “They have really good seafood.”

  “Then I’m sure I’ll love it.”

  Max led the way toward the rear of the restaurant. I paused at the glass wall overlooking the harbor. The full moon cast a pale reflection on the water, turning the waves silver and glossy. Down the coast a lone lighthouse stood sentinel, the only beacon in an otherwise velvet night.

  Max came up beside me, biting his lip. I kissed his cheek. “It’s great here, Max. I love it already.”

  He guided me to a secluded table with the best view of the panorama, pulling my chair out for me before sitting down himself. There was a chilled bottle of wine already on the table, and white lilies in a vase as the centerpiece. Tea light candles floated in a small cube of water.

  “This is all very elegant, Max,” I said. “Are you going to tell me what the occasion is?”

  He smoothed the front of his dinner jacket and cleared his throat. “Well, we’ve been dating for about a month now, and I thought it would be nice to get dressed up for a change. You, um, you look beautiful tonight, Shirley. Really beautiful.”

  “Thank you. You clean up pretty good yourself.” I reached across the table for his hand. “So this is a celebration?”

  He looked pained. “It’s more like a peace offering.”

  Something familiar nudged inside my chest, and I struggled to keep my voice even. “What do you mean?”

  Max held my hand in both of his, his face taut with apprehension. “Shirley, I need to tell you something.”

  My breath seized sharply. “It’s not… I mean, you’re not… are you breaking up with me?”

  “What? No! Oh God, sweetheart, no, it’s nothing like that. But it is serious, and it’s important I tell you.” He exhaled. “Our unit has been reassigned. We’re on the Garrison case.”

  The Garrison.

  I couldn’t speak.

  Already it was the biggest story of the year, with two bodies turning up in the past two weeks. But what made it worse, what made it so much worse, was that the victims were cops. The Garrison was killing cops.

  Newspaper headlines flashed through my mind. Officer beaten to death by radical group called the Garrison. Garrison claims responsibility for detective decapitation. No arrests made in Garrison attacks. Police department at a loss.

  Memorial service to be held today.

  “Shirley?”

  I pushed away from the table, Max mirroring my actions. He’d barely gotten to his feet before I had my arms wrapped tight around him and my face buried in his neck. He stroked my hair. “It’ll be all right, Shirley, it’ll be fine. The force is taking extra precautions and the FBI is on the case now, too. It’ll be over before you know it.”

  “Just be careful,” I whispered. “Please. Just be really careful, Max.”

/>   He placed a gentle kiss against my temple. “Always.”

  I turned back to my seat, drawing long, slow breaths in and out of my nose. I took my time getting settled again, and when I looked up Max had poured me a glass of wine. I emptied it gratefully and he poured me another.

  I sipped the second glass and tried to pull it together. “Did Dixon get my email?”

  Max smiled. “He’s gotten all of your emails, sweetheart. He just hasn’t had the chance to get back to you.”

  “Has he talked to you about me?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  I waited. He didn’t elaborate.

  “And?” I asked impatiently.

  Max’s smile grew. “He’s definitely interested. He called over to the academy last week to ask the instructors about you.”

  Excitement bubbled in my chest and popped out my mouth. “Really? Do you think he’ll take me once I graduate?”

  “That’s still four months away, but if you keep impressing everyone I think you’ll have your choice of placement.”

  “I want to work for Dixon,” I said. “I want to work with you.”

  Max squeezed my hand. “I know. Don’t worry, I’m talking you up every chance I get. Even Kris and Paddy seem interested.”

  “Really?”

  He laughed. “Yes, Shirley. Really. Now, are you ready to order?”

  Max wasn’t lying. The seafood was delicious. But even though he steered the conversation away from the bombshell he’d dropped, the Garrison hung ominously in my mind all evening. I just hoped he was right about it being over soon. If something happened to Max that would be the end for me, too.

  I SPENT my evenings at his place after that, under lame pretences of enjoying his cable or cooking him dinner, but we both knew I was just waiting for him to come home. I’d watch the clock, feeling sicker and sicker with every minute he was late, and every day I was waiting longer. The task force clocked unheard-of shifts, struggling to find a viable lead, yet still the case stretched on. A vice sergeant went missing. Her dismembered remains were found strewn across a public garden.

  Max was exhausted, and I was losing my mind. I couldn’t close my eyes without picturing him in the Garrison’s hands. Every newspaper I saw, every radio bulletin or emergency TV broadcast was his death knell, and there was nothing I could do to protect him.