Just Another Day At The Office

Monday 24th June 2020
8:56am


Harsh sunlight beat down on the bustling city streets getting ready for another day. It was summer all over again; car exhaust fumes, second-hand cannabis smoke from the nearest pothead, and the morning jolt coming from the quaint coffee shop on the corner filled with old-school mobsters combined to prove that it was indeed that time of year once more. The pathways were cracked and covered in gum, the buildings varying shades of grey, and there were at least three people yelling obscenities at each other from across the street which was loud enough to break past music coming from a street vendor and the trains clattering along on an overhead bridge. The things that one from a suburb would find jarring when first moving to a city had become small comforts to the Amazonian leaving said cafe.

Hip-length brazen locks were up in a high ponytail in an attempt to keep it from sticking to her back and chest, but the humid weather had other ideas. Even her patrol uniform was clinging to her filled-out frame like a second skin. Hopping off the single concrete step of the corner cafe, the redhead hummed an unknown tune and made for the wooden bench by the roadside. Placing the cardboard box filled with an array of paper cups, sweet snacks, and breakfast subs down on the graffitied wood, the tall female put her right foot up next to it and began retying her bootlace.

"Nice ass, pig," a coo came from behind her.

Now, Sheridan Kane was utterly proud of all of her junk, especially her peachy rear, but she did not take kindly to the mockery of her career choice. Putting her foot back on the path, the female turned around to see something not entirely out of the ordinary. Grinning with crooked, yellowed teeth, a common bum continued to heckle. For a reason unknown to humankind, the man barely scraping past being branded a legal dwarf advanced for the woman easily clearing six foot.

"Take another step and I'll book you," she told as she made note of a few people listening in. Fed up from having to wait for her ride and the incident brewing, the redhead checked her wristwatch. "9:00," she blinked once and looked up in thought, completely ignoring the tangent growing from the tramp now flailing his arms only two feet away.

"Bitch cops, whatta joke." He kicked the trash can bolted to the sidewalk in order to garner more attention from passersby but all it did was cause him to yowl and then get angry with the inanimate object. "What's this country come to?"

A screech of tires from just around the corner signalled her cue. "I warned you to be quiet," she popped the belt button securing her handcuffs to the back of her hip. "You're coming down to the station."

"Says wh-"

Not giving the man a chance to finish his words, the redhead snatched his wrist and before he could tell what was going on, he was spun around and threw forward. Unlike one would think, he did not hit the scruffy paving, but heated metal as a screeching vehicle pulled up to the curb dangerously. With a hefty thud, the felon's greasy face smushed into gleaming black paintwork of the newly 'parked' 1966 Chevelle SS.

"You're under arrest," with a metallic crunch, the final handcuff was tightened. Lugged up to a standing position, he screamed bloody murder as if she was tearing his limbs off with her bare hands.

The driver wailed and leaned over to the passenger side to see the redhead, "Sheridan!" Mouth ajar and eyes bulging, the blonde inside the car pointed a shaking finger as her brows scrunched into a deep frown, "I just waxed that!"

Ignoring the driver, Sheridan opened the back passenger door and forced the man inside. Just like always, there was a spare set of cuffs locked to the handgrip for times like this - Although her partner would much prefer it to be a cleaner person sitting on her cherry red leather seats. Fastening her first torment of the day to the solid support, the redhead huffed and shut the door before returning to collect the food box she had left on the bench.

The blonde glowered, her grip on the steering wheel tightening, "are you listening to me?"

"Yes," she slid into the passenger side and shut the door after her. Sheridan wasn't listening to the blonde. Fastening the seatbelt, the younger yet taller woman popped open the glove compartment and pulled out the hand sanitising wipes. Once satisfied with the scrubbing, she flung the little white cloth into the trash can just out of the window and turned to the woman she could see was already way past agitated.

It wasn't a surprise really. The driver could not stand this kind of weather. As a testament to that fact, she had both front windows open, the conditioner blasting Arctic air, and her hair tied up into some kind of birds nest Sheridan could tell was put together in one of her rage quits as she probably staggered out of her door while running late.

"Ice coffee," the passenger said as she handed over one of the cardboard cups from the box on her lap.

"A heatwave, they said." Clearly, they were the weather forecasters.

All Sheridan could do was snort a laugh and try to hide behind her melted cheese, chicken and bacon sub. "Your timing was impeccable, by the way."

"Are you taking the piss?" The blonde tore her eyes from the road to glare, "do you know how much time I spent cleaning this car last night?"

Of course, Sheridan knew. Sheridan knew all of her partner’s obsessive-compulsive tendencies, even the weird, verging-on-creepy customs. One of the milder, long-term ones was cleaning her car every Sunday until it looked brand new despite the rough area she lived in. Sometimes the redhead would joke that she wasn’t sure of the reason why the blonde had such firm forearms: polishing the vintage machine or habitual masturbating - both of which were passions.

"If I would have pushed him a second earlier, you would have run over his head." The younger female smiled as much as she could without showing the mushed up food in her mouth, "I can count on your lateness no matter what, Kai."

"Shut up," the driver snapped and returned her eyes to the bumper ahead of her. “What did you even arrest him for, besides the vile stink offending society and wearing a hole in the goddamn ozone layer.”

“Disturbing my peace.”

“You’re doing the paperwork.”

“I always do the paperwork, even when you’re the one who pinches them.”

Cigarette between the fingers of the hand steering, the other hand wiped away beads of perspiration running down her temples and into her cleavage. “I’m not in the mood for this shit; I’m piss-wet through, my head is pounding, my titties are chafing, and I got about two hours sleep because of that fuckin’ base-head across the hall.”

Sheridan smirked when she sneaked a peek at the scrunched up profile beside her but quickly realized something was amiss. “Is that why you have toothpaste on the side of your mouth? It is toothpaste, right?”

“Wha-uh…no-yeah, it’s toothpaste,” furiously rubbing the spot with the back of her wrist, she cracked her neck with more force than necessary. “I have toothpaste around my mouth because I brushed my teeth in the car on the way here. My phone died and I missed my alarm; the only reason I’m here now is that some cunt was on the sidewalk outside my place screaming that all of the stray cats in the area are Federally programmed assassins out to spy on us and kill us in our sleep.” Sheridan opened her mouth to interject but thought better about it. Kaiya, on the other hand, continued to fume, “I mean, I hate the fuckin’ things too, but I’ve never seen one carry off a T.V from my apartment like some other unnameables, so I can let them live. For now…”

"Excuse me?" The man on the back seat finally found a pause in the rambling to cut in and both women in the front glared at him, Sheridan glanced over her shoulder, Kaiya glowering through the rear-view mirror. "Don't you have to read me my rights or something?"

Getting caught behind a beat-up Ford at the traffic lights was practically a Godsend for the driver. Slamming her foot down on the brake, she flipped over in her seat to face the nuisance. "Your rights?" Kaiya reached back and viciously swatted at the annoyance, her seatbelt and shirt collar cutting off her airflow and making her look even more insane than she did on a good day, "motherfucker, you have the right to get out right now and polish my car. Again."

Shielding his face from the attack, the culprit squirmed in his attempt to protect himself, "I'm sor-"

Munching on her breakfast, Sheridan pointed ahead, “the light’s changed.”

With a huff and a grunt, Kaiya threw herself back around, in order to continue their drive. "Just shut up. You should count your lucky stars you’re not in the trunk; you stink like the ass-end of a dead donkey." Phenomenal bust heaving and neck flushed red, the blonde rested her elbow on the ledge of the door and then propped the side of her head on her hand with a scowl to rival that of a small child throwing a tantrum. "And don't so much as even look at my shirt hung up back there - you'll contaminate it."

 

9:15am

The station doors burst open to reveal one of the female pair. Sheridan flung her catch down onto a wobbly plastic bench in the waiting area to her left while the blonde beside her kicked his legs just because she was in that kind of mood.

A plus-size, middle-aged woman with pretty features greeted the female pair like an Aunt seeing her nieces back from college after a long semester despite it only being ten days. "Bringing them in already? You haven't even clocked in yet." Behind the registration desk, the brunette smiled at the same old behaviour of the duo as she handed over the sign-in sheet to the blonde, a separate slip to the redhead. “It's good to have you both back.”

"Make sure you still mark it, Donna," the blonde scribbled her signature as well as the time for both of them while the redhead filled in the incident report on the same ledge, "we don't want anyone getting confused over the score." Kaiya purposely rose her voice, the low husk settling into sweaty precinct air so the others could hear. Practically panting, she glanced up to the desk Sergeant, Donna Wagner. “Have they not got those bastard air-cons working yet? I'm sure they're trying to kill us all off so they don't have to pay us all the overtime.”

By the sweat glistening on the high points of the skin on those around her, the answer was a hard no. It had been just over three weeks since the air circulation system had shut down, and being next to a set of rubber factories did nothing but make the city air even more unbearable. Forty-plus sweaty men, hot computer breath, the air from fast-food joints and drug addicts gone days without bathing only seasoned the air with putridity. As if working in a cramped space with people who spent more time with than your loved ones, filling out paperwork surrounded by criminals as a daily means of making a living wasn’t bad enough already.

'The score' Kaiya had mentioned was something which helped the employees of such a high-stress job make a kind of fun challenge out of busting low-lives. It was part of a monthly game that involved that specific precinct. It was something everyone held in high regard and cheating was an unforgivable and seriously punishable offence. For every criminal brought in and booked, the partners would receive a tally score and at the end of the month during the night out they had together on rotation, those who had won with the highest number wouldn't have to pay for a single drink all night. Considering the female pairs’ tendencies, their male counterparts tried everything in their power to avoid footing the bill to that booze-fuelled karaoke, evidential drug-peppered shit-show at the local dive because even the local cop joint had barred a good half of C-Rotation due to a knapsack full of fuckery and felonies they themselves had perpetrated.

A rounded, older man with sparse facial hair and balding crown picked up on the comment and decided to join in, wafting a wad of papers by his face. "Too bad you're not going to win it this time, even with your overtime."

"How about you get back to your scouting, Officer Sprinkles," Kaiya hummed as she walked straight past her senior workmate, not looking up from the ‘back-to-work' document in her grasp.

Brows furrowing at the nickname, the man in his late fifties repeated the words to the redhead with raised brows, "Officer Sprinkles?"

"Milk tea, three sugars, and a six-pack of sprinkle doughnuts - your patrol diet before noon," the redhead relayed the information she had come to learn of.

A few of the passing officers laughed at the findings but the older man didn’t find the funny side, "shut it, kid."

"Okay, Granddad," Sheridan softly nudged the man more than twice her age with her shoulder as she sent a wink.

Pulling her temperamental chair out, Kaiya wafted her hand above her head, “you should really cut back; diabetes is more serious than any jaywalker you face. My grandad got it - ‘never been the same since.”

“I think being related to you is more intolerable,” the Senior officer shook his head with an eye roll and Kaiya punctuated his sentence with a blind middle finger flying high above her head.

“Yeah, well, he’s dead now and I’m not, so who’s the real loser?”

Both Sheridan Kane and Kaiya Valentine were relatively young - twenty eight and twenty nine respectively - and some of the youngest to be working the field from that specific branch. To add insult to injury, both women were paired together and consistently brought in just as many, if not more felons, than their male peers even if their methods were a little…skewed. However, everyone knows that nothing is perfect, and the flip side to the Kane-Valentine partnership was that neither of them very much liked following orders. Unfortunately, it also showed all too well which was not the best trait to have working in law enforcement. Even more unfortunately, their Commander was a hard-ass with a penchant for finding cruel and unusual punishments for them when the need arose. Sometimes, just because he enjoyed seeing them gripe and mope - as long as it was out of his earshot. Only ten days ago, the pair had been suspended for several small misconducts which had culminated in the closure of their last case. Their ‘official’ reason for the short leave without pay was excessive force and damage to public property. Going into minute detail wouldn’t help anyone so lets just say having a two van-five car envoy arrive at their location as backup only to find the pair covered from head to toe in cow shit; Sheridan with only one shoe and beating a pair of crack-heads with dual-wielded two-foot long salami’s, screeching in tongues; Kaiya missing her uniform shirt and wrestling a four-hundred-pound perp like she had bet money to win rodeo night while an entire building was ablaze in the background was bad.

Sauntering into sight, a short but conventionally handsome man with dark hair and eyes grinned as he jutted his thumb over his shoulder, "don't get too into slacking off, ladies. The boss wants to see you." Anthony Cardinelli was one half of the precinct heartthrob partnership and the top contender for winding the female duo up. And he did just that every single opportunity, no matter how mundane.

"No, he doesn't," Sheridan shook her head with a scowl.

"He does."

Any normal person would have just gone to their boss, but this had happened before. One too many times. Half a dozen too many times. Okay, maybe five dozen too many times. It was one of the many running pranks between the Kane-Valentine and Cardinelli-Paulo partnerships: one person would say another was called for and then when they went to see if they'd really been asked for, they'd have their head bit off by the Chief for time-wasting with childish stunts.

"I swear, Cardinelli," Kaiya slammed her coffee cup down on her desk before looking up to the surprisingly older man, "if you're fuckin’ around I'mma let the air out of all of your tires and tell all of your girlfriends you’re banging a lady-boy with the clap."

"Jesus, Valentine, that’sa little harsh, even for you."

He held his hands up and batted his feathery lashes gifted to him by his Italian heritage. He was outwardly a stereotypical Lothario, his sharp features and come-hither gaze filled with teasing like a warm beach at sunset, but it was a lie. Everyone in that precinct knew it was a lie - some just refused to borrow the gloves needed to battle off the naivety. Kaiya was not one of them; she’d beat him with a wet hot dog bun if that was the only thing she had to hand.

Sheridan walked to the line of desks and put her breakfast tray down on the worktop with a huff. "Let's just get it over with."

Kaiya pointed at the smarmy officer as she was met by Sheridan in the centre of the two lines of desks separated by a narrow aisle. "I really will if you're 'avving me on," the blonde snarled, both brows raised as she nodded upwards, agitated by just about everything already.

Cardinelli swallowed hard. Even knowing that the woman was being serious, he couldn't exactly turn around and say that he was joking now. "Maybe you should have your coffee first," he offered an out-held hand, gesturing to the chair which tipped everyone but her out when they sat in it.

"I knew it!" Throwing her arms up madly as the redhead stomped back to her seat, thankful that it was just a ploy to fuck with them while the blonde gnashed her teeth while rattling curses under her breath. If nothing else, they deserved that one after the Mars Bar incident two weeks prior.

At just over six feet tall, another man in casual clothes came into view giving off grizzled Detective vibes. Not real life grizzled - like Howard five rows down who was clearly overweight, living off two hours of sleep a day and looked as though he drank anti-freeze to keep going after his wife left him five months ago - but T.V grizzled. Dolce and Gabbana cologne ad grizzled; sandy facial scruff, matching tousled hair, and obviously ripped under the lilac shirt gaining sweat patches and sticking to the muscular body due to the oppressive weather - or perhaps the fact he was just that hot on the daily. It was hard to tell.

Grimacing at the ruckus, the tall man ran his hand over the two-week stubble covering his strong, yet slightly uneven jaw. "Stop yelling. Some of us didn’t get to sleep in a bed."

“Some of us didn’t get to sleep at al-” Kaiya was halfway through her grumble when the man in question - Leon Paulo, Cardinelli’s partner - shuffled past, a coffee in either hand with a Manilla folder pressed between his biceps and ribs. Skewing her jaw, she turner her nose away and scrunched her face, “Satan on a strip-pole, Paulie. You smell like my back seat after a hard weekend.”

Paulo merely raised his brought-in mug in half-assed cheers. Kaiya was sure she saw his eyes roll around in his head when he sat down at the desk across the aisle from hers and tried to turn his chair around.

Watching Paulo half in concern-half in disgust, Kaiya plastered the back of her wrist to her nose, the stench of booze, sweat, cologne and God knew what else aggravating her own hangover, the woman pinched the corners of her lips, “oh, man, you smell like a walking sperm-bank spewed her guts in a fuckin’ brewery.”

“Wanna sit a little closer then, sugar-tits? I see you’re not as soaked as a Christmas cake today; did you get kicked out again?”

“Eat my ass, Paulie. All of it - both cheeks and everything in between.” Using the back of his chair, Kaiya kicked her foot to propel herself backwards, the half-hanging on armrest knocking into her desk. “How about you pay off a ticket or two before you start throwing stones about my hobbies.”

“’Yuh rotten bitch,” grunting at the assault threatening an up-chuck, the well-known lady's man finished logging in and turned to face the row of desks behind him. "The Chief's got someone important with him, so try to at least try to seem like you’re a respectable person."

“Says the guy whose brain and eyeballs are rolling about in his skull like lottery balls.”

Sheridan peeked her head around her screen, her mouth full of a second breakfast wrap, "who?"

Paulo stood up and walked over to the redhead’s desk which had the reception desk to her right, a window behind, and Kaiya’s desk pushed back-to-back with it. "I don't know," taking one of the bacon subs from the box besides the female, he patted her on the head condescendingly before unhinging his jaw and devouring the locally renown item only the redhead seemed to be able to cut the cue for.

Sheridan tilted her head and mirrored his expression, "then how do you know they’re important?"

Taking offence because he knew the redhead was anything but stupid, Paulo went on the defensive and roughly prodded the corner of the blonde's desk which was in front of his knee. "I've been doing this job for twenty-odd years. I know an important person when I see one."

The man Sheridan and Kaiya had brought in screamed as he slammed on the ledge of the administration booth, "I told you; it's police brutality!"

Paulo leaned forward a little, towards the left side of Kaiya's monitor with his arms crossed over his torso, mostly trying to keep his prior night’s consumption down in his gut. "Did you hit him?" He glanced down at the blonde, knowing that the pair weren't the best people to get on the wrong side of on an early Monday morning. And more importantly, that Kaiya wasn’t shy of giving ‘love taps' to get her way when she was assaulted by such weather.

"Nah, I wouldn't call it hitting," Kaiya hitched her left shoulder and nodded towards her friend, "Danny slammed him into my car, though. Head-first."

The younger woman missed her partner throwing her under the bus due to being too busy yelling back at the tramp from across the open space, "you're lucky I'm not having you done for sexual harassment."

"Just another day at the office,” sighing, Paulo eased up from the scuffed worktop and stretched his arms behind his head. "Oh, Valentine,” waiting until the addressee hummed in acknowledgement, the tanned man in creased slacks and two-day-old shirt spoke under his breath, “I’m not the only one who stinks of felonies.” Tickling her ear in jest, she smacked away the contact and he got out of dodge from the growing force, knowing he was already balancing a thin line with the physical touch. “You must have been holed up real good this time because I only heard three mentions of you last weekend. Just what did you do on your time off; sit in a mafiosi basement; leave the State; find a new waster to doss with?” Walking backwards a few steps as he licked his lips, Paulo spun around and made for the new scene by the main doors spewing over.

As soon as he’d turned around, every woman within sight seemed to stop what they were doing in order to eye the Detective's firm behind in those tight grey slacks.

“Fuckin’ prick.”

“You’d fuck his prick”, came from the other side of the monitors as if it was a bot replying to Kaiya’s slur.

“Probably, if I didn’t know the shit he got up to. Or into.”

“So judgy, considering your prior lovers.”

“I reserve the right to be judgy when it could lead to an STI or a crazy stalker trying to murder me in my bed.”

Sheridan recalled the woman who had been involved with Paulo last year who had literally tried to murder every female he spent more than an hour a day with. Poor guy almost had his granny who was in a retirement home poisoned by the wacko. Still, Sheridan doubted that was the only thing that kept the sexual tension as just that. It’s not like her partner hadn’t had to deal with her other lover’s…bizarre attachments before.

Ah, it felt good to be back. Just another day at the office. In fact, it was pretty quiet for a Monday morning. The only 'screamer' they'd had so far was the bum they brought in and by now there would have usually been about three of them. Nobody had been rushed in with numerous officers fighting to restrain them with their ‘meth-head super-strength'; there had been no emergency calls for deployment or suddenly required back-up after a Green Peace warrior went postal on one of the millions of Illinois locals who dropped a piece of litter; and no one had even pulled the fire alarm in an attempt to try and make a break for it, even though there were seven people who had been waiting on the bench to be processed since last night. It was days like this that it felt good to work in law enforcement.

Then again, it was the kind of good that would inevitably lead to the feeling that you were neglecting your job. Like you were dossing when something important was supposed to be being done. It was a nagging feeling that would eventually make 95% of employee's take up optional patrol or record-runs just to feel like they weren't slacking. Because in the police force, slacking was considered a sin and would no doubt lead to some form of bad omen not long after. Kaiya’s father would always use that as a comeback when she asked him to take photographs of murder scenes and victims of domestic abuse off the dinner table; “the work of a cop never stops because crime doesn’t”, and all that. Personally, now, twenty years later, she called bullshit. The old fart just couldn’t stomach normal-person conversation, let alone look her in the eye long enough to feed her a new lie.  

Sheridan had just come back from the front desk after doing God knows what and sat at her desk. Slumping down into the spinny chair she knew she should get fixed pretty soon, the redhead tapped the keyboard in front of the pc monitor well overdue an upgrade to enter her user I.D and password. As soon as she'd done so, she inched to her right and watched her partner at the desk pushed back to back with hers between the chunky screens.

"You got an appointment time for today?" She asked the older female staring into the space above her head.

With her mouth still ajar, the blonde's eyes floated down from the ceiling squares to meet the woman opposite her. "You ask me every other Monday and I give you the same answer every single time."

"I'm just being the best friend that I am."

"Yeah, the best friend that put some greasy hobo's face all over the front of my car and then shoved him onto my freshly polished seats."

"Oh, come on. You're still mad about that? That was like...almost an hour ago." Sheridan whined and the blonde just gave a pouty glare with the roll of her eyes. "At least you have something different to talk about this week rather than the same old ‘I’m a bad-bitch who kicks ass twenty-fo'…uh, like….What are we doing now? Fourteen on, ten off?" The intended compliment turned into a subdued questioning, the redhead’s expression growing glummer by the second in realization at how much time they actually spent working. “I thought I was getting used to the last schedule and then we got benched. My normal social life is ballsed up, let alone my sleep pattern.”

"You're right. I'm sure my shrink will find this entire situation just as funny as you do."

"I don't think it's funny."

"Sure you don’t." Kaiya’s brows involuntarily raised in a flicker as she teetered on keyboard smashing, unimpressed by the half-assed attempt of her partner trying to hide the fact she was debating between a cackle and a mental breakdown into her ice tea.

"Valentine," Paulo called over to the female angry typing her password on the out-of-date keyboard in front of her. "Get his details and note the incident," with a firm nudge, the senior officer pushed a short brunet over to the female duo's workspace and then went back to talking to one of the patrol officers just come in.

Sheridan eyed the young man with sleepy eyes and a battered skateboard under his arm. Smirking at her partner as the older woman pulled over one of the spare wooden chairs without looking up, the redhead cooed through the gap between the devices to her left. "Get his details," she gave one of those best-friend hissy-whispers, knowing it would irk the blonde.

In weary silence, the apparent criminal fiddled with the hem of the grey t-shirt he was wearing. Keeping his eyes down, he sat on the seat Kaiya had pulled close and patted in a gesture for him to sit.

"Name, date of b-"

"-Cole Morales, May 14th - 2002. 310-24-9029. All my other information is the same as before," he told. Pale, muted blue eyes slid over the comings and goings of the bustling precinct, paying the minimal amount of attention as possible.

"And why were you brought in?"

"You tell me; you're the cop."

Fair eyebrow twitching, Kaiya turned her head to stare at the felon shifting in the wooden seat she knew could give piles if stayed in longer than half an hour. "Don't get smart, kid. I'm not in the mood for it."

"Shoplifting."

"See, it wasn't difficult, was it?" Sniffling on pollen and the stench stuck to her nostril hairs, she tapped a few keys to bring up his record. "Now, what'd you take?" She glanced to the left to see the criminal blinking at her with a dumb look on his face.

"No one's ever bothered to ask that before."

Frowning at his dopey expression, the female prodded the table in front of them, "didn't you get the point not to do it the first time you got caught?" Her tone turned condescending and the thief crossed his arms over the chest too broad for his height, his expression construing. “If you’re going to be a criminal, at least get good at it so I don’t have to fill menial shit out at 9:45 on a Monday morning.”

Cole's eyes went wide as his mouth hung ajar in disbelief. "Sorry for needing to eat. Next time, I'll just sell crack to misguided kids and pay for my lunch like that. I’ll do that, shall I?" He unfolded his arms only to wave them in irritation, his hands gaining proximity to the officer's personal space.

"You can, if you like, but you won't be leaving this place so soon if you do." Finishing up the newest addition to his lengthy record of small crimes, Kaiya turned in her seat to face the oh-so-terrifying criminal, "how about you get a legitimate job and stay out of trouble."

Shooting out of the chair with a scoff, the boy just making his eighteenth birthday who was dragged down to the station yet again shrugged his backpack onto his shoulder. Glaring down, he gnashed at the air between him and the female officer, "it must be nice to be able to say things like that so easily."

“Nothing about this job is easy - especially for women -so don’t go giving me gripe about having a hard life and shit not being fair. Nothing is easy for an adult who takes responsibility for themselves - you’re not the only one having a hard go of it, y’know?”

“At least with a pair of tits like that, you could make an easy buck.”

Kaiya’s eyes slid from reading the list of minor offences to the eighteen year old beside her as Sheridan choked on her drink, the splutter hitting her partner's right forearm through the gap. “You have a decent face, don’t go selling yourself short. Or maybe, do - renting yourself will be a smaller charge than theft if you’re caught again.” The words fell flat in the stuffy air along with a snort from the redhead who had clearly been ear-wigging behind the PC monitors. The current case, however, didn’t find the funny side veiled beneath the blunt remark jabbing at his past. “If you’re having a hard time managing money, housing, or are in dire straits, St Thomas’ Church on 1800 street offers a soup kitchen and sheltered dorms.”

“Those fuckers always try to push ‘our Lord and Saviour’ bullshit.”

“Out of all of the church-funded housing aides, St Thomas is ranked pretty high for freedom. They test by the twelfth hour for drugs during the first month if you’ve left the premises, but at least they don’t spray the beds at 5am with fire hoses or try to find the spiritually possessed by planting bitters in the 6am breakfast drinks. They also pay you for taking up jobs like gardening for the elderly or cooking at their family charities.”

“I bet you think you’re really fuckin’ funny, don’t you?”

Glancing at the man who had stepped in a little too close in his upset, the woman went back to looking at her computer screen. Resting her elbow on the edge of the desk with a sharp intake of breath, she jut her head a fraction, “d’ya know what I don’t find funny? Kids like you making me type shit so early. Sit the fuck down-”

Sheridan had halted her own work, stiffened by the turn in temperament. Cardinelli’s attention was directed by Donna behind the admin desk and he advanced for the scene. Keeping her eyes fixed on the younger man, Kaiya held her hand up for the knight in shining armour that wasn't needed. “I would really take a seat, if I were you. They’re more than likely to taser you than I am.”

Wiping sweat from his brow and shifting his mop of hair from his face, the short perp blinked at the sweat stinging his eyes. “I don’t know about that. You’ve covered it really well, but I recognize that tattoo on your arm.”

Going back to typing, she missed the gesture to the ink on her inner left forearm but knew exactly which part he had meant. “Oh yeah, which one is that?”

“The one in the lighthouse.”

Giving a sidewards glance, Kaiya gave the man a look over. His clothes were worn in, but his hair and nails were clean; she could catch a glimpse of his own ink peeking past the cuffs of his hoodie pushed up his mid forearms. He wasn’t twitchy like a junkie, and he tried to look her in the eye every time they exchanged conversation which just didn't happen with a liar where she was concerned. She didn’t quite get it, and before she could deduct anything further, another detective sauntered over and interrupted without so much as a greeting.

“That guy knows about-”

Keeping her eyes on the perp's, Kaiya wafted her hand at her colleague. “-He’s mine now; wait your turn.”

Standing with his hands on his hips, a black-haired man in his early forties huffed as if she was a month overdue with money she owed him. “He may have some info for my case.”

“As I remember, you didn’t let me or Danny talk to those twins when we asked you a couple of weeks back when they had information on our case.”

Scoffing, the man with an atrocious five o’clock shadow rolled his eyes and jut his jaw out, “are you really being like this?”

“Screw yourself, Campbell. Oh, wait….you already did - by being a little snide bitch with me,” sparing an upwards nod, Kaiya turned her chair around to show that was the end of that conversation. Facing the perp, Kaiya plucked at the elastic band around her right wrist. Waiting until Campbell began to walk away, the blonde hacked a cough to clear her throat. “As you can see, the people lurking ‘round here who want to get you in a private room are a lot less hospitable than me. So how about you do as I ask in a civilized way, ‘kay?”

“I dunno about that…He looks like the type to beat the shit out of a suspect down an alleyway, steal his drugs and plant a weapon used in a murder on the poor guy.” Glancing back to the detective who had just been rebuffed, the look of pure venom on his face as he slammed a door, the perp returned his attention to Kaiya. “And he walked away with his tail between his legs after you shooed at him. So I guess you’re not so meek and mild yourself.”

The gaze of the other cops darting around the station halfway between curiosity and awaiting - their eyes on the woman rather than him - the perp’s instincts told him to heed the low husk lulling him to retake his seat. Easing back into the uncomfortable chair, the light-brunet held his forehead in his hands, his elbows on his knees, all of his anger and gusto melting into the oppressive B.O scented space veiled by the purfume of the woman a yard away.

“I can call ahead for you - at St Thomas’; there’s usually a waiting list but if you need to get out of somewhere due to your circumstances...You’ve had the same mailing address for over twelve months and nothing has changed with the offences.” Twisting her upper half around to face her screen, her feet still by his, she began typing as though nothing had happened. “You get three days board and three square meals a day during the probation period. No drugs, no booze, no fighting, and no plus-ones - curfew is 9PM but it’s a roof over your head and no one steals your shit.” Spinning the chair a quarter, her knees knocked into the tattered jeans over his. “Talk to the desk Sergeant and she will give you the documents I just sent through. You have to sign them beforehand so she can scan them, and take the originals with you. I’ll make sure they know you’re coming; you should ask for Father Garcia when you get there. Tell him Detective Valentine sent you.”

“Why are you going through so much trouble for me?”

“It’s no trouble to help someone; it’s trouble to keep booking you over petty shit, so keep your ass outta here, ‘kay?” Opening her desk drawer, she already had her hands on a packet of cigarettes. "And you weren't so far off on the cop you pinned, so try to stay inside for a while because if he pinches you, you'll be in for it. For real; there'll be no Miranda rights: it'll be the back of a van, unspeakable things until you admit to whatever he wants you for, and a solid prison sentence. Do you understand me?"

The booked man stood up and turned to fetch his paperwork only to pause. Full brows narrowed and posture hunched, he frowned down at the female officer for a good fifteen seconds before heading on his way.

Staring at her partner from across the workspace, between the bulky desktop computers, Sheridan chuckled as she shoved a cream puff in her mouth. "I think you hurt his feelings."

Kaiya’s mouth hung ajar at the remark. “I did what I was told to do in the ‘back-to-work' booklet; ‘build rapport and show humility', it said.” Finishing typing out the mundane details, she hit the ‘send to printer’ button and stretched backwards, her arms high past the back of her head and her shirt buttons straining. “How much more personable could I get before it got unprofessional; I gave him a free ride for the next month if he behaves - I have the right mind to sign myself up for that program. What I wouldn't give for a dick - I want free-board where people feed me three times a day and don't steal my shit.”

Sheridan said nothing, a shit-eating grin on her face saying she definitely wanted to say something with her words. It definitely showed.

“What?”

“I bet you’d give him a free ride~”

“Get boned by something hard and sandpaper-y.”

Rubbing her hands on a napkin to get rid of her sweaty palms, Sheridan cooed, “he was totally your type.”

“I think I’ve had my fill of criminals, both on and off the job, thanks.”

“Yeah, but he’s like, a soft criminal: he thieves. Not like the others who kinda mauled and ya know…”

“Really? We’re really making that distinction now?”

“Come off it. I bet half of our rap-sheets are twice, three times worse than everything that kid’s done put together.”

“Hargh! Hah, I got you; you said it. Kid,” Kaiya had waited patiently to point out the very specific issue she had with the whole scenario, “he’s just turned eighteen-”

“-just how you like it-”

“-Fuck you!” The raspy, crass bark echoed across the entire open space and snapped her half-dead colleagues alert.

Chuckling to herself at the outburst, Sheridan finished the last of her cream pastry as she sing-songed her way through checking her new schedule. Peeking between the gap, she kept the whipped cream from her pastry on her upper lip on purpose, “oh, yeah; gimme it~”

Holding the right side of her head and shielding her face from the blinding sun coming in through the high windows with her fingers, Kaiya mirrored her partner’s actions with a little less vigour and a lot more glare. “If your body ever goes missing, just know-”

“-Yeah?”

“It’s going to be me. Me; one day, I’m just going to have had enough of your bullshit and feed you poisoned Teriyaki because I know you’d eat that shit even if it’d fallen on the floor.”

“I know you’re trying to be serious right now but, really…if you have my corpse, please try it. even if it's just a little nibble.” Cleaning her hands on a wet wipe, Sheridan glanced up with puckered lips and a nod, “Hell, even if I’m only half alive, you can eat me if I'm done for.”

Kaiya had heard those words before and come to the realization it was almost a kink. Okay, maybe a full-blown kink. She, herself, was curious of what it would taste like and if her friend was adamantly offering, it would be rude to refuse. “I’ll try a bit, but if I’m not starving to death, I’m not going to consume you like it’s Korean barbecue.”

“Ah…Weak.”

"I want to go to a bar already; you fuckin' grate on me, you weird bitch."

Updated: 3rd August 2021 - 21:27