Tease Me (3 page)

I made small talk on my way outside for
lunch. It was raining today, which dropped the temperature a good
ten degrees from yesterday. I subconsciously smoothed my hair,
which was up in a standard tight bun, and walked across the street
to my car.

I went to the same cafe almost every day for
lunch before Ken and I split. I cut back to three times a week,
then two, then one. I went on Mondays to remind myself the start of
the work week was something to look forward to.

“
Well if it isn’t Officer
Buzzkill,” the boy behind the counter said under his breath when I
walked to the counter.

I raised an eyebrow. “Staying out of trouble,
Craig?” I asked, pulling my credit card from my pocket.

“
It’s only trouble if I get
caught,” Craig answered with a smile. I had arrested him about a
month ago for underage drinking and driving. He thought I’d let him
off easy with just a warning. Hah. I didn’t do that. And besides…it
was the first time I got to cuff someone in months. Maybe he was
only 0.01 over the legal limit. But dammit I wanted to take someone
to the station…even though he had sobered up enough to be released
as soon as he got there.

“
And you will get caught.
Again.”

Craig laughed. He was twenty. Couldn’t he
wait a fucking year? It was more than getting in trouble; it was
about his future. Kids didn’t realize how much a simple DUI charge
could affect them years later. That shit comes back to haunt you.
Trust me.

The
one
time I drank underage in college,
I got caught. I was grounded for months. Dad still held it against
me.

“
You know we thought you
were a stripper when you showed up,” Craig said, turning to put in
my order. I didn’t have to give it to him; I always ordered the
same thing. “You could be, you know. If you ever smiled. Officer
Sexy is way better than Officer Buzzkill.”

“
Watch it,” I said,
extending my arm to give him a credit card. “Harassing an officer
isn’t a charge you want on your record.”

Craig stifled a laugh and left to make my
turkey on rye sandwich. I took it and hurried through the rain,
eating in my car. I went the long way back to work, hoping to catch
someone speeding or turning without using their signal.

Ugh.

My life. Fuck it. Every day was so
boring.

That Friday, I helped Misty pack up her
house. Her husband’s interview went better than expected, and his
soon-to-be boss’s sister was a real estate agent. She got them a
good deal on a nice house.

So there we were, packing everything up and
spending the last Friday night together before she moved. It was
bittersweet. Of course I didn’t want her to go, but it was good for
her and her family.

“
Promise me,” she said,
opening a box labeled “baby stuff.” “You’ll get out into the dating
world soon. I know how hard the breakup with Ken was.”

I set an armful of brand new baby clothes in
the box. And she knew how even more rigid I had become since then.
That was a whole other conversation…one we’d had many times. “I
will. Someday.”

“
You’re still not ready?”
she asked, arching an eyebrow.

“
If I find the right person,
I’ll be ready,” I told her. And I did want to date more. I wanted
to find
that
person…but being single gave me the freedom to screw anyone I
wanted to. Hah. Like I would use the freedom like that. I sighed.
“You’re so lucky. You got married at twenty-two. Your search is
over.”

Misty subconsciously rubbed her belly. “I do
feel lucky. I hated dating. But hey, don’t get down. You’ll find
someone.”

I pressed a smile. “I know I will.
Eventually.”

She put more baby clothes into the box. I
turned, going into another room to start taking things apart. We
worked until midnight and made a lot of progress. I stayed the
night, and then the next day to help Misty oversee the movers
loading the heavy stuff into the moving truck.

*

I stopped by on my way to work Monday morning
to give her a hug goodbye. I cried all the way to the police
department. I dried my eyes and went in.

“
You all right Ellie?” my
brother asked me as he came out of Dad’s office. He was wearing a
bulletproof vest. His detective badge hung around his neck. I
looked at it enviously for a second before flicking my eyes
up.

“
Yeah. Fine.” I started to
walk to my desk.

He grabbed my arm. “You don’t look fine.”

“
Scott,” I said, shaking him
off, “it’s nothing.”

“
Don’t lie to me,” he said,
giving me a concerned half smile.

“
Misty moved to Germany. I’m
fine. You probably have important things to do. Get to
work.”

He tipped his head. “Sorry to hear that, sis.
And I’m going home. Was working on a case all night.”

I didn’t have to ask how it went. The shimmer
in his eyes let me know he had solved whatever he was working on.
He always did. He was a damn good detective. I sighed. I could be
that good too, I was sure of it. I just needed dear old dad to give
me the chance.

I set my stuff down and straightened my
holster. I was on traffic duty today. Directing traffic duty that
is. And it was raining. What a great fucking day.

*

My feet hurt when I got back to my apartment.
I stripped out of my wet uniform and got in the shower. Though it
was early spring, the clouds and the rain gave the day a chill. I
was shivering by the time my shift ended.

I made myself a bowl of ramen noodles and sat
down at my computer. My heart raced when I opened the browser,
typing in the bank’s website. I closed my eyes after I put in my
login info. I didn’t want to look. I didn’t want to see the close
to negative sum in my savings account.

“
Ugh,” I groaned. Nervous
sweat formed between my breasts. I had enough to buy a small amount
of groceries that I desperately needed. I had half of what I needed
to cover rent, and nothing to pay for my accumulating medical
bills. My Netflix subscription was up at the end of the month. I
sighed. I wouldn’t be able to renew that.

I closed my computer and went to bed, feeling
close to tears. I would make it, somehow. It would take time to
build my savings back up. I would have to pull in overtime, just a
few days here and there so it wouldn’t be obvious to Scott or
Dad.

Dad would lecture me on needing to save
money, forgetting that I had spent all my savings to pay off my
student loans. I was struggling, but I wasn’t that bad…yet. And
Scott would offer for me to come stay with him and his wife. She
was a manager at a marketing agency. Money was never an issue for
them.

But as nice and protective as Scott was, I
didn’t want him to know I was barely making it. I wasn’t ashamed,
no…it was more like I didn’t want to throw in the towel and admit I
needed help. Not yet. I could trudge through this a while
longer.

Three weeks had passed since Misty moved. I
buried myself in work, going over old files and pulling in enough
overtime to cover most of my rent, but it was gone in a matter of
days due to unexpected expenses. I came home, ate, slept, then was
back at work. Days blurred together, and the monotony was making me
crazy. This was no way to cope.

Fuck.

I was lonely and horny as hell. I wanted a
boyfriend, someone who cared about me and ask about my day…and
someone I could fuck night after night. I left work that night
feeling pretty down about myself. I tried so hard to prove myself,
to let not just Dad but everyone else on the force know I was a
good cop, and I got nowhere. I was a lame desk jockey. All I needed
was a chance, just one big case to bust to prove myself.

Instead, I directed traffic when church let
out.

My job was lame. I was lame. My life…I sighed
and opened the door to my apartment. I felt like I was taking one
step forward and two steps back. I needed to come to terms with the
fact that I would never be anything more than a traffic cop. I
would never be given the chance to be a big time detective like my
brother.

I shook my head, unbuttoning my pants and
kicking off my shoes. Scott led an investigation that resulted in a
big bust and the arrest of a dozen dealers that they suspected to
be linked to the Calaveras. Though it was hard to prove. The
dealers here were pretty far down the chain, and it was getting
harder and harder to link them to the mysterious Calaveras leader:
Alejandro. Not much was known about Alejandro. The DEA didn’t even
have a rough sketch of him. All we knew was that he was young and
over the trafficking business when his father passed seven years
ago.

Nevertheless, Scott arrested twelve dealers.
He and half the force were out celebrating. He invited me, out of
pity I’m sure, but I declined.

I had to work in the morning. I knew I
wouldn’t have been able to stop after one drink. I didn’t have the
money for that anyway, even though it was tempting to get drunk and
go home with someone.

I threw my shoes in the closet and stripped
out of my clothes, hurrying to take a bath. I didn’t normally allow
myself to wallow in self-pity, but I was planning on it tonight. My
financial situation had gotten worse in the last three weeks. My
fridge stopped working, my computer got a virus, and I accidentally
bleached my good clothes. I hadn’t had an orgasm in God knows how
long.

And
it was Monday.

I took a hot bath, changed into my favorite
jammies, and tucked myself in bed, wanting to sleep away the ill
feelings that twisted in my stomach. I had a hell of a time falling
asleep. I couldn’t stop worrying about money or how I was never
going to be a good cop. I felt like my life was a wasted
opportunity and I was being forced to settle for mediocrity. Was it
worth it, always being the good girl? I had missed out on so much
and had denied myself even more. I didn’t want to admit it to
myself that I had wasted the best years of my youth.

Somewhere around midnight, I drifted to
sleep. Only a few hours later, my phone rang. I sat up, blindly
reaching for it on the nightstand. I was about to ignore the call
when I saw it was my sister-in-law. She never called me.

Oh fuck.

“
Becca?” I answered, my
voice thick with sleep. “What’s going on?”

“
Scott,” she said between
sobs. “He’s been shot.”

My heart stopped beating. “What?” I asked,
the breath leaving me.

“
He’s been shot,” she
repeated.

“
Where are you?” I said,
throwing the covers back.

“
Home. They called me
and…and…” She broke down in sobs. “I’m freaking out.”

“
I’m on my way,” I said and
hung up. I threw on jeans and a t-shirt, jammed my feet into boots,
and raced out the door. I jumped in my squad car and turned on the
lights.

Misty would be proud.

I gripped the steering wheel. I shouldn’t
have hung up so soon. I should have asked more questions. Who shot
Scott? How bad was he injured? He was alive…wasn’t he?

I stomped on the gas, driving around a car. I
flipped on the siren.

“
Get the fuck out of my
way!” I yelled to oncoming traffic. Didn’t they know to pull the
fuck over? My heart hammered the entire drive to Becca’s. She was
standing outside, waiting for me. We raced to the ER, speeding down
the dark streets.

I pulled up to the ER doors and ran in. I
held up my badge to the young woman behind the desk. “My brother,”
I panted. “Detective Scott Morgan. He was shot.”

The girl looked at my badge then got up,
telling us to wait. Becca clutched onto my hand. The double doors
to the ER swung closed behind the attendant. The faint sounds of
laughter echoed through the halls.

Minutes painfully ticked by before the
attendant came back.

“
Someone will be right out
to get you,” she told us. “You can have a seat.”

Becca leaned forward. “He’s okay?”

The attendant raised one eyebrow. “I don’t
know. I’m not a doctor.”

Neither Becca nor I moved. Another minute
went by before the doors swung open again. Scott walked out, his
white dress shirt splattered with blood. His left arm was in a
sling, and his dark hair was a mess. His detective badge bounced
with each step. He looked like a fucking hero in a movie.

“
Scott!” Becca cried and
flew to him. She wrapped her arms around him, and he pulled her in
with a one-armed hug. “Are you okay?”

“
Fine, baby,” he breathed
and kissed his wife.

“
What the hell happened?”
Becca leaned back to look into his eyes.

“
Ran into a bit of trouble
at the bar,” he said.

“
You got into a bar fight?”
Becca recoiled.

Scott flicked his eyes to the people sitting
in the ER waiting room. I got it right away, but it took Becca a
while to know he couldn’t talk about it in front of civilians. We
moved outside. The ER was buzzing with police officers, all raging
about what had happened. I stayed close behind Scott. I wasn’t
leaving until I knew the story. I felt like a tag-along, not
important enough for my peers to address me. I didn’t care. I
needed to know who shot my brother.

“
Spill,” I said, looking at
his arm in the sling.

“
I went to the bar with the
boys,” he started. “Ya know, casual drinks and food.”