Hostiles

by Ethan Johnson

  “Oh? Why is that?”

  “Well, the dude picked the wrong condos, I guess. One of them blew up, and the other place was all full of thignoid dealers. I gave Thalia so much shit after that, but I kinda felt bad for them. I mean, I think they have the right idea, but I don’t know. Things are still crazy. I’m waiting for things to die down and get boring again.”

  “Yeah, boring is good, I guess,” Diane said, nodding. “I’m a patrol officer.”

  Morgyn’s eyes widened for a moment. “Whoa, you’re a cop? No way! Hey, you’re not here to bust me about the Golden Halo I’ve got, are you? It’s like, not even 100 grams.”

  Diane raised her hand. “I’m off duty. Self-care.”

  “I hear you. That’s the thing. I don’t mess around with pills and stuff, but I don’t know, sometimes you need to cut loose, you know? Get stupid, and stuff.”

  “I know.” Diane looked around furtively and decided to take a risk. “That’s how I got together with my girlfriend.”

  Morgyn’s mouth rounded into an O. A black male hairdresser leaned over and flashed a toothy smile. “Bawd! There’s my girl!”

  “Whoa,” Morgyn said. “I didn’t have you pegged as a lesbo. I mean, that’s cool and everything. I’ve messed around with girls. I don’t know, it was fun kissing and stuff. I haven’t done any of that in a while.”

  “I don’t think she’s my girlfriend anymore, though.” Diane sighed wistfully. “Also why I’m doing the self-care.”

  “Well, I mean, I get off at eight, but I don’t know, I was going to go home and probably chill out over a movie or whatever.”

  “Chilling out is good. I was doing that for a while, then I decided something had to be done about this hair pronto ay-sap.”

  “I hear you. I’ve never been with a cop before. I’m not sure if I could handle it. I’d probably be all paranoid and stuff.”

  Diane cocked her head. “About the drugs? I haven’t heard of Golden Halo, but if it’s not as bad as thignoids, I’m sure it’s not a big deal. I know I wouldn’t say anything.”

  Morgyn brushed on another application of color to a section of Diane’s scalp. She took a hard swallow, then said, “So, what are you saying?”

  Diane thought of Lyssa. She thought of Lady Diamond. She thought of Miss Coco and didn’t think it was cool to sleep with the help. Then again, she reminded herself, she needed practice taking what she desired. Lyssa wasn’t here. Neither was Lady Diamond. Morgyn was.

  Diane looked up at Morgyn’s reflection. “I’m up on twenty. I have movies too, if you want to chill with me.”

  The male stylist blew a low whistle and clapped his hands. “My girl is gonna git it! Hell yeah!”

  Morgyn slapped his arm with her coloring brush. “Nobody asked you.”

  “Yes, ma’am, he did,” he replied curtly. “You’re not the only one who can git it.”

  Diane bit her lip nervously and wondered if she was really going to sleep with her stylist. But she and Lyssa weren’t together anymore either, she reasoned. Lyssa was back living with her parents and forbidden to see her ever again. Not that Lyssa was complaining. It wasn’t punishment to her like it once was. So why shouldn’t I get out there?

  Morgyn leaned in to whisper in Diane’s ear. “We could skip the movie, if you want.”

  Diane spooned Morgyn and stroked her hair. It felt strange to the touch. Morgyn was nothing like Lyssa. Diane recalled Lyssa’s wild, untamable mop of hair and how it would get up her nose when they spooned. As Lyssa put on weight, she began to lose her sexy curviness in favor of lumpiness. Morgyn, by contrast, wasn’t thin by a long shot, but her figure was curvier in all the ways Diane wished Lyssa’s had been. Morgyn’s breasts were smaller than Lyssa’s, which Diane didn’t mind. She studied Morgyn’s expertly crafted hair and sniffed it. Morgyn’s hair had a chemical scent to it. Lyssa usually smelled like bubblegum.

  “Having fun with my hair?” Morgyn sounded bored, with a touch of annoyance.

  “I like it,” Diane said. “It’s different.”

  Morgyn rolled onto her back and ran her fingers through her hair. “Yeah? It’s just a stupid pixie cut. I had Elan throw in some highlights, at least. I’m thinking about growing it out and baking the crap out of it.”

  “I like it just fine,” Diane said. “It’s not stupid.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll keep it like this. I mean, it did get me laid for once.” Morgyn smiled at Diane and pulled her for a kiss.

  Diane focused on the sensations of kissing Morgyn. Lyssa’s lips were fuller. Morgyn’s were thin but not unpleasant. She liked to kiss with tongue, which Diane didn’t have experience with. She followed Morgyn’s lead and tried to make her tongue do whatever it was she wanted it to. Diane hated not being in control, knowing what to do and when to hold back. She cupped Morgyn’s breast and tried to imagine waking up to her every morning before going to work at Panther and sending Morgyn down to the salon.

  Morgyn broke off the make-out session and slapped her forehead. “Oh, crap. I totally forgot to message Jenna.”

  Diane gave her a questioning look. “Can it wait until tomorrow?”

  “Naw, dude. I mean, I don’t know, maybe, but… she just got married. It’s probably like, what, six in the morning there now? She’s probably big time hung over. Still, she was my college roommate, you know? I can’t leave her hanging like this.” Morgyn wriggled free of Diane’s embrace and stepped gingerly to her bag. Diane propped herself up on one elbow after rolling over and switching on a lamp. Seeing Morgyn’s naked form in her bedroom illuminated by a single side lamp brought reality crashing down upon her. Tattoos that Diane hadn’t paid close attention to ran down Morgyn’s right thigh. Lyssa didn’t have any. Neither did Diane. Lyssa never showed any interest in getting any. Diane wondered what kind of tattoo she would get, if she got one.

  Morgyn pulled a tablet out of her bag and brought it back to the bed. She sat with her back against the headboard and tapped away at the screen intently. Diane recalled her first time with Lyssa and how she pressed her back against Diane’s chest to watch her “stories”. It was the first time she saw Alexa Charlevoix and her first glimpse of the kind of lifestyle she dreamed of achieving.

  Morgyn cupped her hand over her mouth and began to tear up. “Oh, my God. She’s beautiful.”

  Diane craned her neck toward the tablet. “Can I see?”

  Morgyn nodded and turned the screen to show her a smiling brunette wearing a white bridal gown. She clutched a bouquet of white flowers. Diane had no idea what kind. “She looks happy.”

  “Duh, it’s her wedding day. She’d better be. Also, she’s in freakin’ France, that lucky-ass bitch.”

  “Un-fricking-believable,” Diane said. She didn’t know what else to say. She didn’t know this person.

  Morgyn swiped through an assortment of photos and sighed. “Must be nice. She met her wife at some conference or whatever. Some technology thing. She got a transfer to England and did the long-distance thing for three years. She was going to move back here, but when Arbor Day happened, she was all like, ‘Hell no, bitch, America’s a mess.’ I can’t say I blame her. Now look, she’s at some fancy chateau in Normandy.”

  Diane shook her head and blinked. “I’m sorry, did you say, ‘wife’?”

  “Yeah.” Morgyn smiled at Diane. “She’s one of those lesbos too. She’s like, full-on lesbo. Not like me. I just fool around, you know? I don’t know if I could ever get married… well, I mean, to anyone. I don’t know, maybe someday. Maybe if the right person asks me.” She fluttered her eyelashes.

  Diane stared at the last photo in the spread. There, against the backdrop of a field of swaying lavender stood two smiling women in white. Jenna’s bride held her left hand up to display her wedding band. Diane wiped her eye with her knuckle at the sight of the couple and the realization of what she wanted, and from whom.

  “That’s amazing,” Diane said softly. “I’m so happy for her.”

  “Y
eah, me too,” Morgyn said, frowning. She tapped out a congratulatory message and sent it off to her faraway friend. She tossed the tablet aside and slid down onto her back. “Hit the light, willya? I’m wiped.”

  Diane granted her request and laid in the darkness, imagining herself in white, bending down to kiss Lyssa against a backdrop of lavender and historic chateaux. Tears trickled down her nose as she measured the distance between where she was now and where she wanted to be. She decided she wouldn’t kick Morgyn out of bed, but she wouldn’t invite her back, either.

  It was Lyssa she wanted. Diane felt she should be grateful to Morgyn for showing her the light. Maybe Morgyn would be her maid of honor, she thought it was called. She knew precious little about weddings, except people who were in love got married, and up until now, Diane had no clue that two women could get married. Now, in the dark, she wanted it more than anything in the world.

  As for Lyssa, Diane resolved to find a way to talk to her and explain everything. How the poisoning was an accident and set up by Sapphire. She wouldn’t tell her about Morgyn because—she glanced over at Morgyn as she slept on her right side, with her back to Diane—well, because there was no point. Lyssa had trust issues, and she wouldn’t take kindly to the idea of Diane messing around with other women, regardless if they were on a break. Diane could hear Lyssa asking her constantly how she stacked up against Morgyn: “Were her boobs bigger? Did she do things I don’t? Like what?”

  Diane rolled her eyes at the thought and sniffled. No, there was no need to get Lyssa all hot and bothered about Morgyn. She would patch things up, and one day, they would be married. Period.

  The Delaneys invaded Diane’s fantasies with disapproving scowls and tightly crossed arms. “Over my dead body,” said Mister Delaney.

  “As you wish,” Diane whispered in the dark.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Diane paused outside of briefing room 1A. She wasn’t looking forward to seeing Hathaway after his aggressive questioning the day before. She focused on her plan for terminating him. She hoped to do it privately when they were out on patrol, but if it had to be in front of their fellow officers—and Sergeant Addison—that would be his doing, not hers, she reasoned. She took a deep breath and remembered Lady Diamond’s instructions. She pushed the door open and took confident strides toward her seat with her chin up and her eyes forward.

  Sergeant Addison stood at his podium reviewing his notes. He looked up at Diane. His jaw dropped and eyes widened. “Holy mackerel, Pembrook. Did you spend the night in a French whorehouse?”

  Diane glared at him but remained silent. She heard female voices behind her. One said, “Whoa, her makeup is way on point.” Another said, “Lena Chamberlain has hair like that. I’ve only seen that on the Style streams.”

  Diane took her seat beside Hathaway. He looked her up and down and seemed incapable of speech. Good, Diane thought darkly, I don’t want to hear it anyway. She wondered who he went out on patrol with after she left. Then again, she was sure she’d find out soon enough. “Muh… morning, Pembrook,” Hathaway said at last.

  Diane nodded. “Yes, it is.”

  Sergeant Addison raised his hand and started the briefing. “Okay, everyone. Short and sweet today. We’re finally clearing the zone and generating good defense out there. We only had two firebombings, down from the usual ten. Bison Division intercepted a ginormous thignoid shipment coming into port. Less product means less headaches for us, you guys. Let’s stay sharp and focus on serving today. Show the people we’re on the case, gentlemen and, uh, ladies.” He stared awkwardly at Diane, then shook his head. “Dinner. I mean… dismissed.”

  Everyone remained seated. Sergeant Addison looked up from gathering his notes and gave the room a sheepish smile. “Not another Arbor, you guys. Good catch.”

  Diane patted the photo of the Sixth Precinct building and repeated her daily mantra: “For Milton.” She proceeded directly to her cruiser and did not engage in any small talk with her fellow officers. She felt a thrill when she caught sight of Gabe staring stupidly at her as she passed by.

  Hathaway conducted the morning cruiser inspection in a businesslike manner. Diane did not give him any signs she was willing to talk about anything other than checking off each item on the list. Taillights... check. Right turn signal… check. Hathaway’s shoulders sagged as he conducted each successive inspection. When the list was complete, Diane turned in the maintenance tablet to a technician and took her seat in the cruiser. She stared blankly forward as Hathaway grudgingly put the car in motion and began their daily patrol.

  Diane’s forehead began to throb as they sat together silently. Her prime directive was to terminate Hathaway. One shot, no witnesses. Diane shook her head almost imperceptibly to dismiss the urge. Now wasn’t the right time, she thought. Too much to explain. The directive compelled her to consider a cover story about her gun accidentally firing, but she didn’t approve of anything that suggested she didn’t know how to handle firearms correctly. She would perform as ordered, she vowed, when the time was right.

  Hathaway cleared his throat. “You look nice.”

  “Thank you,” Diane said curtly.

  “Guess you got your hair done after you left.”

  “I did.”

  “I, uh… Officer Hinajosa filled in for you. He did okay. Not as observant as I’d like, but we survived.”

  “Surviving is good.”

  The cruiser pulled up to a fresh red light. Hathaway exhaled sharply and turned to Diane. “Pembrook, I’m sorry. I let my emotions get the better of me. I won’t let that happen again.”

  Diane turned robotically and smiled. “I know.”

  “I guess you and Hinajosa had a thing once, or something. He said I should watch my back.”

  Diane stared blankly forward again. “You always should. The city is a dangerous place. People get killed all the time.”

  “I think he meant about you, Pembrook. I don’t know what his deal is, or what kind of history you two had. I do know it’s none of my business. I won’t pry.” He sighed. “Anyway, I’m glad you’re okay.”

  Diane gave him an odd look. “Do I seem okay?”

  “Well, I mean, like you said, it’s dangerous out there, that’s all. Every day above ground is a good day, in my book.” The stoplight turned green. “So, hey, I like your haircut.”

  Diane adjusted her hat and stared out the passenger side window. People walked back and forth on the sidewalk, going about their daily lives, unaware of anything but their own concerns. Diane felt a pang of contempt for them. Silly, small people who didn’t want to do anything except survive. Diane wanted more. To earn it, she only needed to do one little thing.

  Diane did not look away from the window. “I like it.”

  Hathaway huffed. “Diane, look at me. I said I was sorry. Can we please talk this out? I don’t like this wedge between us. Help me make it right. Tell me what to do. Tell me to piss off. Tell me something, anything, okay?” He reached over and shook her shoulder. “We’re partners, God dammit. Let’s work through this.”

  Diane scowled at Hathaway and ran her fingers over the Panther Division insignia on her arm. “I am working, Officer Hathaway. As we agreed, the city is dangerous. We need to keep our eyes open and mouths shut. We can discuss other matters at another time.” Diane’s forehead ached and her right hand trembled. She resisted the urge to unholster her weapon and dispatch Hathaway at point-blank range. She slipped her hand under her thigh and pressed down on it. Not now, she told herself. Soon.

  Hathaway was taken aback at this. He sighed again and nodded. “Fine. If you want to freeze me out, be my guest. This isn’t high school, Pembrook. Jesus.”

  Diane folded her arms tightly across her chest. “I wouldn’t know.”

  “I’m done with this,” Hathaway snapped. “Let’s just get through this patrol in one piece, got it?”

  “I intend to,” Diane said coldly.

  Diane kept a watchful eye on two things: the street,
in search of hostile activity, and Officer Hathaway, in search of the perfect opportunity to complete her mission. The longer he lived, the more painfully Diane’s forehead throbbed. She worried her brain would begin to leak out of her ears. She squeezed her eyes shut and massaged her temples in-between bites of a sandwich picked up from a corner deli.

  Hathaway bit into a potato chip and munched on it slowly, deliberately. The sound was unbearable to Diane, but not enough to shoot him for it. She tried to work out scenarios where she would get a clean shot and none of the suspicion for killing him. She wished the Masked Man had arranged a late-night takedown with her trusty rifle. He would have been dead hours ago, she thought darkly.

  Hathaway crumpled up his potato chip bag and stuffed it into the brown paper bag their food had been packaged in. He glanced at Diane’s half-eaten sandwich and jutted his chin at it. “You gonna finish that?” Diane grimaced and shook her head. She handed the sandwich over to him and turned away. She couldn’t focus on food, she decided. Not while there was unfinished business so tantalizingly close to being completed. Hathaway reached for his door handle, then turned to Diane. “Cover me while I get rid of this.”

  Diane rolled her eyes and stepped out of the cruiser. Hathaway looked around after exiting the car and nodded. He proceeded to a corner trash bin, keeping one hand on the butt of his sidearm. Diane reached for hers. The urge to unholster it and put a bullet through the back of his head was overwhelming. A swarm of hornets buzzed in her brain as she resisted. An elderly woman pulling a two-wheeled wire basket smiled and nodded.

  “Thank you, officer,” she cooed.

  Diane snapped out of her hypnosis. “Do what?”

  “You’re doing fine,” the woman said. “I can finally take my walks. No more of that nasty drug dealing.”