Chapter 3-2
724 Words
After yet another shitty day and enduring Randy’s ecstatic exclamations of “We’re pregnant!” for the entire lunch break—and the occasional text—I stopped by the precinct on Thursday evening to work with the artist for a couple of hours until we were satisfied the representation was as accurate as could be produced. The woman who did the composite thanked me for my time, and I headed out of the building, walking to the Subway that was still open and only a couple of blocks from my truck.
I ordered a tuna footlong, along with chips and a drink. The line was pretty short this time of day, and once it was ready, I walked to my dad’s old pickup, which I’d taken over driving when he couldn’t be trusted behind the wheel anymore.
Why did Simms—I never thought of him as Holland, for some reason—have to bring up my dad? It had been painful enough, watching his slow decline. My mom had died years ago, and it had just been the two of us, watching out for each other, Dad telling me to work hard and ignore the shitholes in the world that wanted to put me down because I grew up poor, and I was gay, and on and on.
I had loved and respected my dad, and it had hurt so much, seeing him die that way, thinking he had an enemy in every face he met, getting frustrated with himself and others because he just couldn’t…remember. Crying because he was afraid. f**k Simms anyway for bringing back those memories.
I got into my truck and drove home, only to encounter Henry in the hallway as I walked up to my door.
“Hey, Fitz. How’s it hanging?” He seemed so happy these days, almost lit up from inside. I didn’t understand what he saw in Jerry, but…what did I know?
“I’m okay,” I replied. “How’s Jerry?” I unlocked the door and turned to face Henry in the hallway.
“He’s the best, you know?” No, I didn’t. “We have s*x, like, every day, and it never gets boring. We’re planning a weekend getaway soon, and then he’s introducing me to his parents.” I hadn’t even known about Jerry’s family. Henry grinned sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, I know he’s cheesy and a bit of a flirt, but I like that, and we’re good together.”
Did Henry’s asshole hold the secret to finding love, or something? Maybe he should patent that s**t. “Glad to hear things are working out for you.” Not. “Later.” I closed the door and focused on my dinner.
As I sat in front of the TV petting Rapunzel a few hours later, my cellphone buzzed. I looked at the screen and saw it was a text from Detective Simms. What now?
I opened the message and read that the database had a hit on the drawing. Turned out the victim had a half-brother. His wife had never known of her husband’s sibling until the police informed her. They were closing in on the suspect now and hopefully would either solve the case shortly, or come closer to getting some answers.
I decided not to respond. What was the point? Our “acquaintance” was based on a murder case, and I was so far below his league it wasn’t funny. And he infuriated me. And I was attracted to him. And this was a dead end. And my track record was crap at this kind of thing.
* * * *
By the time Friday evening rolled around, I had snapped at Randy a few times, yelled at a number of passengers, and come pretty damn close to quitting. Seriously, college students had been easier to manage. Disgusted with myself, I clocked out and drove to my apartment complex, only to find Holland Simms, dressed in a rose-pink button-down shirt and navy-blue blazer, with gray pants, leaning against a Jeep Cherokee in a nearby “Visitors” parking space. I hated that my heart skipped a beat at the sight of him.
I hopped out of my truck, grabbed the six-pack of beer, and tucked it under one arm before locking up. “I thought I told you I didn’t want to see you at my apartment again.” I turned and propped myself up against the truck, watching as he came to stand two feet away from me. God, he smelled good.
He grinned. “This is the parking lot.”
I thought about kicking him on the shin, just because, but I restrained myself, for once. “My part in the case is done, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” he replied, “and the department appreciates your assistance.”
“So, why are you here?”
“I want to ask you out on a date.”
- Writer
