Class Acts Volume 1

Chapter 2-2

Later that night, as I lay in bed, I decided I’d been lucky Simms hadn’t thrown me in jail. All he’d done was rub his cheek, raise an eyebrow, and send me home to cool off. “I’ll be in touch,” were his parting words. He hadn’t even had the decency to stumble back or look as though he’d been affected by a punch to the jaw. My knuckles were sore, though.

I turned over and thumped a pillow, wincing at the pain in my fist and willing myself to sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, though, images of the dead man swam before me and I would wake up again. At this rate, I was going to have a crappy Monday.

I hadn’t had such a strong reaction to another man in, well, never. Detective Simms had pushed every last one of my buttons, and all I could think to do was fight back. Nothing else was possible. Had it felt good to feel my balls drop in pride instead of disappearing like pebbles? Sure, but at what cost? It usually took a lot for me to lose my temper, but it had barely taken a few minutes to push me over the edge with Simms. I’d have to be careful around him if we ever had the misfortune to see each other again.

When I awoke before the alarm after finally getting a couple of hours sleep, I wanted to cry, I was so tired. I sat on the edge of the bed, head a little fuzzy and headache looming. I could call in sick, but I wasn’t sure I’d be able to sleep anymore, at least not right away. I shuffled to the bathroom and showered in cold water, dressing in my uniform of white shirt and black pants and boots before seeking out lots and lots of coffee. I needed to attain some semblance of normalcy before I had to deal with my unadoring public.

When I told Randy about the night before on our lunch break, he stared at me for a moment before cracking up. Bastard.

“What’s so funny?” I demanded, kicking his leg under the table.

“It’s…it’s not that it’s funny, really,” he said between breaths. “You…you punched a cop because he called you a princess?” And he was off again.

“It was ‘panties in a twist’—get it right. And did you miss the part where I saw a dead man and a detective was mean to me?” Yes, I was whining.

Randy wiped his eyes. “No, but I wish I could have seen your face.”

I crossed my arms on my chest and pouted. “You’re not my friend.”

“Yes, I am. That’s why I can laugh at you.” He snickered, then sobered. “Are you all right, though? That must have been scary, seeing something like that.”

Mildly mollified, I replied, “I didn’t even know what to do, what to think. And all the blood…” I shuddered at the memory. “Then that asshole detective came along and made things worse.”

“You deal with assholes all the time. What made this one burrow under your skin?” Randy studied me for a second, then smirked. “He was hot, wasn’t he?”

“What? No!” My denial was too loud and quick to be believable, and Randy picked up on it, naturally.

“I knew it! You punched a cop you wanted to bone. Oh my god, this is awesome! I wish I’d been there.” He rubbed his hands together with too much glee for my liking. Maybe a murder was in his future.

“Why do I even talk to you?” I huffed, shaking my head as he chortled all over again. “I’m going back to work, idiot.”

“You better keep me posted on this, lover boy. I want to hear what happens next.”

“Don’t hold your breath.”

* * * *

I was just falling asleep on Tuesday night when I heard a knock on the door. What the f**k? No one, not even Jerry, had ever bothered me after eleven o’clock in the evening. Grumpy, I sat up in bed and threw off the covers, disturbing Rapunzel, who hissed at me and disappeared somewhere before I stomped over to the door, and yanked it open. Rapunzel reappeared and I had to use my foot to keep her from darting out into the corridor since I wasn’t in the mood to go chasing after her at this time of night. Anytime, really.

“What?” I snapped before realizing who stood there, which made me glower even more.

“Do you always greet your guests like this?” Detective Simms asked, smirking as his hot eyes checked me out from head to toe. Why did he have to look so good even at such a late hour? The comparison of his snug, dark purple turtleneck underneath a gray jacket, and slacks—all fitting perfectly—to my shabby attire was pitiful, as I was wearing old, heavily paint-stained cut-off sweatpants from long ago projects and a snug T-shirt that had more holes than fabric and emphasized my ample tummy. Who knew what my hair looked like?

“I rarely have guests, and I was trying to sleep. What do you want, detective?”

“Still in a snit, I see,” was his charming response. His smirk didn’t help, either.

I slammed the door in his face, locked it, and carried Rapunzel back to bed. Simms started banging on the door. I let him. I would call the cops and have his fellow officers take care of him, which would please me mightily. Plus, my neighbors would start complaining in no time. Snuggling under the covers, I closed my eyes, a smile on my face for the first time all day.

And then my cellphone rang. Swearing, I grabbed it from the bedside table and looked at the caller I.D. Holland Simms. No way. I answered the call. “I suppose you have access to all kinds of information about me, detective, but I have to be up at three-thirty in the morning to go to work. Piss off.”

“I need to talk to you about the case. We either do it now, or I stalk you on your bus route until you talk to me.” That he already knew that much about my life was disturbing.

The nerve of this guy. “Isn’t that illegal, or something?” I rubbed my eyes. “Look, I will come down to your precinct after my shift is over. Text me the address. I don’t want you anywhere near my home again, got me?”

“Fitz, come on. I—” Whatever else he said was lost since I hung up. Enough already.