by Karen Deen
“I’m just joking. If Xav wants to look at your ass like he wants to take you in the middle of the gym, then…”
“Lilly!” she screams at me and whacks me on the arm. The slight blush that was on her cheeks is now full-blown red.
“What? Enjoy that hot man every moment you can, Lesh. You can’t tell me the sex isn’t off the charts. Come on, spill the beans, he is pretty good in bed, isn’t he?”
“Lilly, stop it. I’ve told you before, I’m not like you. I don’t share everything.” She turns and heads towards the front door, stopping just at the last minute before leaving my bedroom. Looking over her shoulder, she smiles and whispers, “Good is not even close,” then keeps walking, giggling to herself, but I bet her face is beet red. That man is the best thing to walk into my sister’s life and I couldn’t be happier for them.
Alesha holds the door of the elevator for me as I struggle to push, then pull, my suitcase towards her. She laughs at me the whole time.
“One day, you will listen to me and pack lighter. I bet you only wear half of what you pack.” I glare at her. I know she’s right, but I will never admit that.
“You know me better than that. It’ll never happen. Now let’s start thinking about the shopping in New York and how I’m going to fit it in your bag to bring home again.” We both look at each other and burst out laughing. I pull her towards me and hug her.
“Love you, sis,” Alesha whispers.
“Me too. Never forget that.”
I can feel her taking in that deep breath just like I am. After the scare we had where we thought we might lose her, I make sure she always knows just how much I love her. Sometimes the feeling catches me unaware at strange times, but when I get it, I share it. Life’s too short.
“Hi Xav, did you miss me?” I cheekily ask, approaching him where he’s leaning on the car. He takes Alesha in his arms and kisses her on the top of her head before turning to face me.
“I missed a Stevenson girl but sorry to say, Lilly, it’s not you. Now, you did get the memo that we’re only going to New York for the weekend, didn’t you?” I knew the smart-ass comment was coming, but a part of me loves that we have the kind of relationship that we can stir one another, and no offence is ever taken.
“This is packing light for a weekend. If the airline didn’t have the stupid weight limit, then there would be two bags. Now stop wasting time and get it loaded in the trunk. We don’t want to be late to the airport, do we? Grant will not be happy with us. I don’t want to have to tell him you took too long loading the car which caused the lateness.” We all start laughing but deep down know I’m right.
Xavier groans as he hoists my bag into the trunk while Lesh and I stand watching him struggle. He looks up at me, and I just give him the look that lets him know not to say another word about my bag.
The trip to the airport is full of idle conversation about our day, what the plan is for when we land in New York, and more importantly, where we’re off to after the show. I doubt Grant and Zara will be coming out partying with us tonight. They haven’t seen each other for two weeks, so if I were them, I’d want to be ditching us and heading back to Zara’s apartment. Not that I will be saying that to my big brother. Alesha and I might have that sort of relationship, but Grant is my oldest brother. Talking to him, even jokingly, about sex is totally off the table. He doesn’t want to know anything about his sister’s sex life and probably still sees me as his virginal little sister. Let me assure you, I’m far from that. I feel that same way about Grant. Thinking about him having sex is like walking in on your parents going at it. That vision burns the back of your eyeballs and it’s an image that can’t be unseen. Thinking about Grant gives me the same sick feeling in my stomach. It’s just off limits.
Thank god Xavier chose valet parking so we can get inside and checked in. Grant is already blowing up our phones wondering where we are. I’m going to need champagne to cope with him this afternoon, until he gets to see his girl. Zara is the only one who can calm him and have him eating out of her hand. I never thought Grant would find someone who would put up with his dominant personality, but Zara has him on his knees and he’s happy to be there.
We can see him pacing as we head towards the gate for our departure. I don’t know what his problem is, we have at least twenty minutes to spare. That’s got to be a record for me. Xavier and Alesha reach him first. He leans in and hugs her, leaving a kiss on her cheek, and then a man hug for Xavier.
“Working on Lilly time again, are we?” He scowls as he turns to see me.
“We’re here before they’re calling us to start boarding the plane. I don’t see an issue. I would say that I’m early, wouldn’t you?” I flash a big smile and dip my head and get just what I was aiming for. Grant to take me in for a hug, laugh a little, kiss my cheek and say what he always does: “Only you, Lilly, only you.”
Now that, people, is how you tame a big brother.
Sitting in airports is always so much fun. Watching people and trying to guess their stories. Where they’re travelling to, what for, who with and what sort of things they packed in their bag. Alesha and I used to play this when we were younger, but the older we get, the more elaborate the stories become. Mine always involve some crazy turn of events or a weird piece of luggage. They always end up coming back to something a little naughty. Alesha elbows me and looks across to the guy sitting on his own in the corner of the lounge where we’re sitting waiting. I smile at her and grab my phone, because the boys would not appreciate our stupidity. I start texting.
Lilly: He has been on a buying trip for his company that sells sex toys. His suitcase if full of samples and his girlfriend is waiting for him at home. He told her to be naked when he gets home so they can try out the samples.
Alesha: Wow, you went there early. I’m sure you have sex on the brain most days.
Lilly: Me…? Not a chance. I have it on my mind every single day. I’m just not lucky enough to be getting it every day like you.
Alesha: Sucks to be you then. Maybe you should go ask him for a sample.
Lilly: Why, Alesha… I never, young lady!! Lol
I can see Alesha giggling to herself as she hits send. I can’t help but laugh a little too as I read it. Who would have thought I would be the one being jealous of my sister’s love life? Not me, that’s for sure.
Lilly: Ok, your turn. The two young girls sitting with the older lady near the check-in counter.
Alesha: That is their grandmother who they have been staying with. Their mother and father have been travelling to New York for a job interview for their mom to be a Journalist with the New York Times. They’re flying to New York to meet up with them for a family holiday.
Lilly: Yours are always so sweet, just like you.
Alesha: Someone has to balance out your perverted mind.
Lilly: Oh, the horror!!!
Alesha: What about the lady over near the window looking out at the planes. Holding the baby and rocking her in that cute pink blanket.
Looking over at her, there’s something a little different. It looks like she has security with her and no bags, not even a small carry-on for her and the baby. Before I have time to answer her, the people start filtering out of the doors from the plane that’s landed. I can see Grant getting antsy to get on the plane to get to Zara. Xavier is relaxed, sitting in his chair and looking at his tablet, with his arm around Alesha. Just slowly and softly rubbing up and down her arm. I turn back to watch the lady with the baby who has gained my attention and imagination; maybe she’s waiting for someone rather than her and the baby boarding the plane. The security guy says something to her and she moves a little closer to the gate.
The passengers keep streaming past her, yet she still stands there nervously, rocking from side to side, slowly patting the bottom of the little one in her arms. Her body language tells me she’s nervous, apprehensive but also excited. You can see the anticipation inside her. I can’t hear what she’s whispering to her little girl,
but the words are making her smile every time she looks down into the eyes of her baby. She keeps glancing back up to the people exiting the plane, looking, searching and trying to contain her excitement. I start to worry that whoever she’s waiting for has missed the plane because the passengers have stopped coming. Then part of the flight crew starts to come out with the captain waiting by the door for the last person.
We become witness to the most emotional reunion. The man in an army uniform steps through the door, shaking the hands of all the flight crew. He’s limping, obviously carrying a leg injury. I look across to the woman who is now walking towards him with tears streaming down her face. She must have special military clearance to be in here to wait for him, hence the security.
He turns to face her as she approaches him. He drops his bag and reaches out to take her face in his hands, slowly taking in every feature on her face as if to memorize it. Then he leans forward and gives her a kiss like he wants to consume her.
Finally, he pulls back and then his hand drops to the bundle in her arms. He strokes the baby’s cheek and leans forward to kiss her. His tears now falling freely as his wife lifts the baby girl into his arms. This big strong soldier is sobbing from what I am guessing is the first time he is meeting his daughter. His shoulders are rising and falling, showing the emotion flowing through his body as he clings to her with all the strength he has while he lifts his other arm around his wife, and they bond for the first time as a family. The waiting area has gone quiet as we’re all aware of the private moment we’re sharing.
The captain and the flight crew start clapping and that has us all starting to cheer and clap. Alesha and I are both wiping tears from our cheeks. You can’t help but feel emotional after what we just witnessed. I hear Grant behind me whisper to no one, “Thank you for your service,” which is his way of showing how he’s affected by what he just saw, but he’s a macho man and doesn’t cry.
Picking up his bag in one hand and carrying his little girl in the other arm, the couple start to leave the waiting area with his wife’s arm linked in his. I doubt they will be breaking that connection for days. Good luck to them and I wish them happiness and a speedy recovery from the injury.
Looking to Alesha, I say through my tears, “I could never have made up anything as beautiful as that.” She just nods at me from where her face is resting on Xavier’s chest, him leaning down and kissing the top of her head. One day I want what they have, and especially the connection that is unspoken, like the soldier and his little family.
One day, just not yet; I still have so much fun to enjoy.
Note to self, though – men in uniform to be added to the future date list!
Finally, they’re calling boarding instructions for our flight. I wipe the thoughts of a cozy family life from my mind. Time to party, getting myself another booty call to erase the memory of poor little Lenny.
Look out, New York, here comes Lilly.
“About time they start boarding, don’t they know they’re running late?” Grant grumbles. Always so patient, my brother.
“Keep your pants on, Mr. Grumpy. The world does not revolve around us Stevensons. Maybe it should for me, but definitely not for you. Now let’s get on the plane and get this fun weekend underway. I could use a drink, not sure about you guys but I’m sure I heard Grant say he’s paying for them.” I slap his arm and start heading for the gate with my ticket, laughing over my shoulder at him stalking behind me with his usual Grant scowl.
He’s my seat buddy all the way to New York.
He’ll love it!
2
Kane
“NOW, LET’S ALL TURN to page 197 of the notes and we can talk about the changes in the procedure for detaining a suspect after the use of your taser.” I didn’t think it was possible to say a whole sentence without changing the tone of your voice. It must be a job requirement for seminar presenters in the police training branch to be boring people. I know these seminars are compulsory, and there are certain new things we need to know, but why the fuck do they need to make them so boring? Surely in this age of technology there’s a better way to present the information.
Seriously, can they not find a way to add in a bit of entertainment? Or at least a few beers and better food than cardboard sandwiches and bagels that would break concrete if dropped. This is day three and I am so ready to get out of here. The conference is on the changes in use of weapons, detaining a criminal and the rights of the criminal. It’s hard dealing with a suspect who you’re convinced is guilty, to show respect, yet we’ve got to, because everyone is innocent until proven guilty. There have been times when the person does turn out to be innocent so it’s not fair if they’ve been treated badly for no reason. Once I know for sure they’ve committed the crime, beyond a reasonable doubt, then they’re on the bottom of my shit list. Working in homicide, the scum I deal with are usually way past the right of being treated with any respect, but I grit my teeth and do it anyway.
Leaning back on the hard-ass chair, I bring my hands up behind my head and try to stretch a little. I’m just not used to sitting down for three days straight. Luckily the hotel where I’m staying has a gym that’s hard core. I’ve been working out my boredom both morning and night. I’m keen to get today over with to hit the town tonight. A good feed, a few too many beers, check out the night life and hopefully find a little fun to finish off the evening back in my hotel room. Best stress relief, besides my gym workouts, is a night out on the town.
The last few months have been chaotic at work. It’s never a good thing to be busy when you’re a homicide detective. I’d be happy to be sitting in my office day after day if it meant no one was getting murdered. Unfortunately, society is not like that, and as each year passes, it seems to be getting worse. Drugs, guns and money play a big part in most murders. The drugs screw them up, the guns make it too easy to point and shoot, and of course money closes the circle. Either you have money, or you don’t, which is the driving force when drugs or guns are involved.
My mom often shakes her head at me wondering why I still do this job, or more to the point, how I can do this job at all. She doesn’t understand the burning feeling in my soul to try to help make this world a better place. For people like my mom to be able to live without fear. I’m just one person, but by standing up with all those other officers who are also just one person, together we are strength. One day she may understand but until then, I just keep telling her the same I do every other time she asks why I’m a cop. The story I tell her is that secretly I’m a superhero in disguise, and this is my undercover job. I can’t show her my outfit because it’s super top secret, but I can tell her I do look pretty damn hot in my super suit. She just laughs every time, telling me how big of an idiot I am and that I better stay safe otherwise this superhero’s mother will come flying in on her broomstick and whoop my ass. She wonders where I get my sense of humor from. Just as well, because you could never survive in this job without one.
The lecturer at the front of the room keeps droning on about the use of tasers. I’ve got one, I use it, but it’s the last thing I think of when I have a suspect in front of me and they’re pointing a gun at me, or worse still, at someone else that I’m trying to protect and rescue. My hand is always hovering over my gun as I enter any situation. I know that makes people nervous and there’s lots of talk about the way some police treat people, but in my job, I don’t have a choice. The criminals I’m up against, they have no respect for life; not mine, not the innocent, not even their own. It’s intense and I learned very early in my career how to shut out the bad parts of my job as I walk out the door of the station after every shift. Doesn’t mean I don’t think about it, but I don’t let it consume me. In saying that, some days it just doesn’t stay at work no matter how hard I try, and I end up carrying it home with me, weighing me down.
Meeting Xavier has helped on those shit days. Living in the same apartment block, we’ve become close. He has become my lifeline. I might be a man who
doesn’t show my emotions, but he is someone I can unload on. He knows just what to say, or at times knows not to say anything at all. Having a gym in his apartment which he uses to keep fit, as he’s a personal trainer, also helps me. I use it whenever I need to, whether to keep up my fitness or burn off some frustrations. He’s like my brother from another mother. Couldn’t live without him now, and that’s big for me to admit.
I have completely tuned out the lecture. With my mind elsewhere, I didn’t hear the presenter finally wrap it up. The sound of the books closing and the chairs scraping across the floor wake me out of my thoughts. Thank god it’s over. Three days of torture that takes me back to the days of high school and the police academy. I hated school. I think it’s got a lot to do with having to sit still at a desk. I need to be moving and doing something. I don’t know how many times my fifth-grade teacher, Mrs. Botolo, told me to ‘sit up straight and sit still. Stop bouncing your legs, stop tapping your fingers on the desk.’ My mom would come home from the parent teacher meetings always telling my dad they said I could do better if I sat still and did my work. No matter how much I tried, it never happened.
That’s why I love my job now because I’m always on the move and my brain is always working hard trying to solve cases. It keeps me settled because I have something happening all the time. I’ll never be one who can relax on a holiday just lying around a pool, drinking and getting a suntan. I would rather be out on the water on a jet ski or exploring a new place. Just like I intend to do tonight; new place, new people, lots to explore.
There are plans for the guys in the course to meet for dinner for the last time, which fits in perfect for me. Time to hit the gym, eat with them, and then head out on the town for the night.
***
Forty minutes of pounding the treadmill and another forty on the weights has the sweat dripping off my body as I wipe down the machines. It’s one thing that gets me agitated when people use the machines and don’t wipe them down after. I don’t want to be sitting on some weight bench after some guy’s hairy ball sack has been sweating all over it. There’s only one fluid I want coating my balls and it sure as hell isn’t another man’s sweat.
