by Zee Irwin
I watched and waited for another entry to test him. He stacked the last one and handed me his clipboard to sign for them. “So, have you read anything interesting lately?”
His blank face told me everything before he spoke. “You mean, like books?” With a scrunched face like the word books was the filthiest word in the English language, he was definitely not my Blue92.
After he left, I picked up BooBoo and let my hands stroking her fur soothe my loveless wound. “Maybe Bev is right. Falling for some online guy is hopeless. I guess I’m destined to have all the book boyfriends I could ever want, but never the real thing.”
I did well the rest of the day, avoiding thinking about Blue92, until I arrived home. Maddie and her boyfriend, Daniel, had scored last-minute tickets to Hamilton for the evening, but she was the best roommate ever because she left me a Valentine’s Day card, a little basket filled with heart-shaped chocolates, a bottle of cheap wine, and an order of Chinese food. Since our other roommate Cassidy just moved into a new apartment with her boyfriend Bronson, a Valentine’s date with me would be my evening plans.
Cassidy and Maddie both had boyfriends now, and it wouldn’t surprise me if marriage and kids soon followed. Where would that leave me? Alone, with no roommates, being called “Auntie” by their kids, with at least a dozen cats and shelves full of books. I pictured myself as an old maid, cat lady complete with gray hair in a bun and wire-rimmed glasses. I shuddered at that vision at first. But I’d at least have Simon. Or Frank. I huffed and grabbed the box of General Tso’s chicken over fried rice and dug in.
Sheesh, why did spending Valentine’s Day alone bring up so many emotions? I wanted to talk to Blue92 so badly. I did anything and everything to avoid opening my laptop because it was crazy to need him like this. He said he had to work on Valentine’s and that was why he couldn’t go out.
I checked the time. Would he be home now? Maybe he was online waiting for me, and dying inside since I wasn’t. Well, he deserved it. I held out longer, but it was no use. He was like an addiction I couldn’t shake, and I mustn’t have hit rock bottom yet because I wasn’t ready for an intervention.
I grabbed my laptop off my nightstand, then loaded the LitForum website. And there he was, online, waiting for me. My heart sped up.
Me: Hi. How was work?
Blue92: Good. Hey, Happy Valentine’s.
Me: Thanks. You too.
I resisted the urge to type out that it might have been better to hear that from him in person.
Blue92: Did you end up doing anything?
Me: My roommate left me an order of Chinese, a bottle of wine, and I’ve been reading.
Blue92: Was it your favorite? General Tso’s?
My heart fluttered how he could recall the little details about my favorites, but it didn’t mean he was into me enough to meet in person.
Me: My brother invited me out with him and his friends for drinks tonight. Maybe I should have taken him up on that.
Blue92: Oh yeah?
Me: He’s always trying to fix me up with one of his friends.
There was a momentary lag until his next text finally appeared. I hoped he was jealous.
Blue92: Why didn’t you?
Me: Maybe there’s someone online I find more appealing than his sports-fanatic buddies.
Blue92: Look, I’m sorry again that I had to put off meeting you tonight. I know we’ve been saying we’ll meet someday to enjoy a cup of coffee and talk about books.
Me: We could meet now? I’m sure some coffee shops are still open in the city somewhere?
Was I coming across too forward? Damn, it’s what I wanted. Why shouldn’t I ask for it? I wanted someday to be today. I was lucky to find someone like him who was into the same things as me. So why did this feel like it was going nowhere?
Blue92: You’re funny. It’s a little late now. I’m going to sleep. Hope we can chat later this week.
Hot tears formed in my eyes and I slammed my laptop down. I reached for a tissue and knocked over the stack of romance novels on my nightstand. Did the books perpetuate the lie? Was fated love a myth? Where was my knight in shining armor coming to save me? Not that I needed saving because I could take care of myself, but seriously, where was my swoon moment?
Silly Autocorrect
Jace Delfino
The roomful of detectives erupted into hoots and hollers after Captain Fergus congratulated the team for their recent arrests in the war on drugs.
“Way to go. This operation was the next step in the battle to keep the streets of Boston clean, but we can’t let up. Now, we have counterfeit money sweeping through the city, plus a rash of burglaries. Detectives Delfino and Miller are in charge and will fill you in.”
“Oorah,” my buddy Travis Miller barked out as I took the lead. We shared a history in the Marine Corps. It was good to know he had my back even now in the police force. He’s the one guy in the room I’d want by my side in battle, no matter what.
“As you all know, we’ve been successful in arresting one member of a new ring of counterfeit money producers.” I used a laser pointer to highlight the mugshot projected on the screen behind me. “This douchebag was at the bottom rung of the ladder. They released Johnny DeMase from prison last summer, but we caught him trying to pass fake money at O’Brien’s Irish Pub. The bartender and the owner were quick to call me and we got lucky apprehending Johnny passing the money. His brother, Ricky DeMase, attempted to attack the bartender outside her home. The good news: we caught him. But the fake money is still showing up across the city.”
Travis took over. “Counterfeit money is a federal offense. Today, we’ll be consulting with the FBI, who opened a case on this. We’ll turn over our files, but if you hear of anything more on the streets, we’ll pass it on to them.”
All eyes turned back to me as I switched the screen to show the latest Boston Times news website. “Our other case is making local headlines. Break-ins have been plaguing Prince Street over the past month. Four burglaries targeted shops with high value merchandise like jewelry, coins, sports collectibles, etcetera. We believe these are connected. The same people are pulling off these crimes. While you’re out on the beat, keep hammering away, reminding business owners of the security precautions they can take. Prevention will be key. Encourage them to report anything out of the ordinary.”
Cap finished up the meeting, ramping up the volume with his bark. We all knew how much he hated dealing with the media. “I’m tired of hearing business owners calling and complaining that we aren’t solving these cases. Now, dammit, let’s get out to the streets. Talk to people, and bring in some leads. I have assigned detective Delfino to lead the special task force. I want these cases solved, people, and soon. Or else you’ll all be pulling 24 hour surveillance shifts down on Prince Street.”
Nobody dared groan at Cap’s warnings as the meeting dismissed. Travis and I moved into the conference room, where two FBI agents waited for us.
The tallest one reached for a handshake first. “Detectives, I’m Agent Browning, this is Agent Jamal. We’ll get up to speed and get out of your hair. Won’t take much time.”
We ran them through the case files and leads, and it was almost lunch when we finished. They packed up to go, but Agent Browning hesitated.
“One more thing, Detective Delfino, if you don’t mind. I had a case run cold on me before I transferred units last year. Recently, an old informant told me the prime suspect might have fled to Boston. I’d like to send you the details. If you could keep an eye out for him or any leads as to his whereabouts, you’d be doing me a personal favor. The guy took my wife’s family for a lot of money.”
“Absolutely. Send us the details and we’ll see what we can do.” We shook hands again, and that was the end of our involvement in the counterfeit money investigation.
Travis and I visited Foley’s Brew Bar for a quick bite at lunch. Sometimes I wondered if more work got done at Foley’s than in the office among the detectives. The bar was
a dark hole in the wall, but a regular hangout, usually filled with cops and firefighters.
Travis started right in as our sodas arrived. “These lousy criminals can’t make enough money selling drugs, they gotta print it too?”
“Right. Ready to hit the streets with me this week? The task force will start blanketing the businesses on Prince Street tomorrow. And I’m sure we’ll soon head up detail on surveillance there, too.”
“What’s this we business?”
“Come on. We’re a team. You owe me.”
His face turned down. In the mirror behind the bar, my scars were visible even in the dark lighting. Here, I didn’t hide. They all had scars, too, in some form or another. Working these jobs long enough, we couldn’t escape without them.
“You know, at some point, we gotta be even. Right? What happened in the past stays in the past? We’ve saved each other’s asses enough times over in Afghanistan. I mean, I’ll always have your back—”
“And I’ll always have yours.” I raised my soda glass, and he met it with his and a clink.
“—but I asked Cap this afternoon for a desk job. Just for a while. I’ve tempted Fate one too many times, my friend. You know Marcie is due soon. I want to see my baby boy or girl be born. Whatever happens after that happens, but until then, I’m playing it safe. I can’t stick my neck out too much, but I’ll support you from the inside.”
The baby would be Trav’s pride and joy, and would be lucky to get a father like him. He might have missed out on loving Marcie and this baby if it weren’t because I’d taken the heat for him back in Afghanistan. It had left me with scars from my torso to my neck, ending on my cheek, and caused most women to run the other way.
Travis escaped the blast with a few scrapes and minor burns, thanking me and calling me his hero. If I was a hero, where was my reward? Where were my wife and baby? There was a time I harbored so much resentment, but that was then. I’d been through enough therapy to wipe out any jealousies since then. Hell, it wouldn’t surprise me if Travis asked me to be the godfather. And maybe, someday, they’ll do the same for me. If I ever get that lucky.
“I understand, but I was hoping you’d be along as we visited each business. You know how people look at me.”
He slapped my back. “Wear your turtle neck shirt that day and bring out the Jace Delfino charm. No one can resist you.”
“Yeah right. I’m intimidating yes, charming no.” Oddly enough, the scarring made me one hell of a detective, though, and I’d honed that tough intimidation skill to perfection.
“Hey, speaking of charm, remember Marcie’s Maid of Honor, Becky? She’s coming to town next month and asked if you’d be around.”
I winced at the memory of her. I might have been drunk the night of his wedding, but I didn’t hallucinate the silhouette of Becky as she rode me like crazy in the dark. She had to have been drunk by then, too. After giving me the cold shoulder all day at the wedding, she probably felt sorry for me and my scarring. It was a middle of the night mercy fuck on her part.
“Tell her I’m busy.”
“What? Come on. Hasn’t it been forever since you were on a date or got laid?”
“Maybe I have. I might not tell you.”
“You got someone? Who?”
Shit, I should have never opened this can of worms with him. I never intended for Travis to know about Flower65. “Met someone online, that’s all. I’m not sure it’s going anywhere.”
“Online? That’s great.”
“Not really, because she’s asked me twice to meet in person. I blew her off both times. I’m surprised she still talks to me.”
“Hey, I knew this guy once, one ugly mother. He fell in love with a chick online. I figured once they met, she’d run the other way after seeing his ugly mug. But she didn’t. She claimed she loved him and could see past his face. Although rumor had it, both his cock and his bank account were loaded. Maybe two out of the three were enough for her.”
“This isn’t helping. I think you made that shit up.”
“It’s a true story. Okay look, you’re a gorgeous guy. There, I said it. Scarring aside, you are one fine man. Shit, if I had your looks, your Mr. Olympia body, your huge bank account, and your cock-a-doodle-doo, man, I’d be out there fucking half of Boston. My point is, you got more going for you than you think. Meet this girl. See if she’s got what it takes to handle all of this.” He motioned up and down my body. “If she does, she’s a keeper. If not, come fuck Becky next month.”
We shared a laugh and finished our beers, but I remained unconvinced I’d ever be brave enough to meet Flower65.
The minute I walked in the door of my apartment, Sammie trilled at my feet. “What’s up Sammie boy? Bet you’re starved like me.” I set down the pizza I had picked up on the way home and reached for his canned cat food in the cupboard.
“Let’s see what you get tonight. How about Salmon?” He chirped his approval as I opened the can and filled his bowl and refreshed his water dish. Sammie hunched his big, short-haired black body over his bowl and ate it all up. And then I ate my pizza while Sammie licked his paws. This was our nightly routine. Food first, cuddles later.
Lounging on my couch, I balanced my laptop on a pillow on my left side where my left-hand fingers could hunt and peck at the keys. While on my right side, Sammie’s big tomcat body sprawled out across my thigh. He expected constant petting, his loud purring showing his pleasure as my hand stroked his fur.
I stopped petting for a moment to scratch my nose, and his purring stalled. His head popped up, and he squinted his yellow eyes at me as if he was saying, WTF? Keep petting me, douchebag. We had a mutual understanding with each other. Yep, just a couple of roommates here, Sammie and I, living the bachelor life.
I wanted a dog, but I’d never admit it to Sammie. When I first joined the force, I hoped to get into the K-9 unit but didn’t. And then I hoped to get a German shepherd as a pet, but my apartment living and my odd hours weren’t the best conditions for a dog.
One night, Sammie followed me home and then stayed around my door for a week. I finally let him in, and he grew on me, and now we were best buds. It was nice to have someone to talk to, and he was a skilled listener. But someday, I’d buy a house and have room for a dog. Sammie would have to learn to live with it.
“Well, buddy, do you think Flower will be online to talk to me tonight?”
Sammie growled and dug his claws into my jeans.
“Yeah, I know I was a jerk.”
When I saw Flower65 was online, my heart skipped, as it had done every time since we started chatting. Even though we were going through a rough patch right now, I still felt the hardest working muscle in my body surge blood faster through my veins. Of course, I was the one to blame for her coldish demeanor toward me of late. I’d be cold too if I’d asked her out twice and got rejected. I didn’t even want to think she’d never ask again or worse, stop talking to me altogether.
Me: Hey, Flower, how was your day?
Flower65: Amazing. And you?
Me: Passable. Busy.
I waited. Nothing. This was how I knew it still upset her. Before Valentine’s Day, she would have asked what made my day, or shared interesting things like some new restaurant she tried with friends, or a new book she was reading. She also had a couple of cats, so we had that in common to chat about. But we weren’t back at that level of communication yet. Instead, the silence came as I waited. I should kick myself for stringing her along like this. She probably deserved better.
Me: Okay, I know you’re giving me the silent treatment.
Flower65: You don’t feel you deserve it?
Me: I know I deserve it. How many times are you going to make me say I’m sorry for not meeting you?
Flower65: At least a million more.
I scratched Sammie’s ears, eliciting a louder purr. He closed his eyes and looked pretty damn happy. I blew out a sigh. If only I had a woman like Flower to scratch my itch nightly. Maybe Travis was rig
ht.
Me: I want to meet you. Soon.
Flower65: I question your definition of soon.
Me: And I question your sanity of wanting to meet me in real life.
I winced. I hit send before thinking of a better response.
Flower65: Why? Are you an ogre or something?
Me: Why would you say that?
Flower65: Say what?
Now it was my turn to give the silent treatment. She didn’t know what she was saying because she didn’t know I truly was an ogre. She didn’t know of the scarred face behind the online mask of Blue92. Still, it was a rotten thing for her to say. Even as a joke, I was too sensitive about it.
Flower65: Hey, Blue92? I’m just as scarred as you. If we approach this as two old friends meeting, it will be fine.
Me: Scarred?
That was an odd coincidence. There was no way she knew.
Flower65: Oops, silly autocorrect. I meant scared.
I contemplated how to respond, trying not to get hot under the collar, and picked up my beer to swig. Sammie suddenly stood up on my thigh and used it as a scratching post. “Aargh. Sammie.”
My yelp scared him and he shot up into the air, which scared me, sending my beer flying and dumping onto my laptop as they both crashed to the floor. It shorted out. That was the end of my conversation for the night. I tried to log in to the website via my phone, but error messages kept delivering me disappointment.
Great. Flower65 was likely really pissed at me now.
The Beautiful Soul
Lily
It was time to put down the latest book by my favorite romance author. I enjoyed it, completely losing myself in the book for a couple of slow hours at the bookstore, and letting myself enjoy the comfort of my velvet chaise with BooBoo napping across my legs.
