Page 4 of Love's Hot

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.

Walking to the glass doors to head back to my room, two hot-as-hell women walk towards the gym. Well, I’m not sure how much real exercise they intend on doing with all the make-up caked on their face, but damn, I wish they had turned up a few hours ago. It would have been even more reason to keep running if I had those bodies to watch leaning over and lifting some weights. I’m more than happy to admit I love a slender fit-looking woman. I never thought I had a type when I was younger but now, I know I certainly do. Blonde, athletic, confident and happy to just have fun. If they tick all those boxes, then I’m game to see where things lead.

“Ladies.” I give them the panty-dropping smile as I hold the door open for them. “Heading in for a workout? Pity you’re a little late for us to work out together.” They both laugh with one rolling her eyes at me. I know it’s cheesy, but it gets the conversation started. We stand in the doorway facing each other while I’m checking them both out. I’ve never been the kind of guy to do two women at once, but these two make a very strong case for me to think hard about it. Who am I kidding, I couldn’t treat a woman like that. I don’t like sharing; when they’re with me, they are only with me. Just as I’m about to start the conversation, the one who rolled her eyes looks me straight in the eyes and places her arm around the waist of the other.

“I’m pretty sure I’m the only one who will be working my girlfriend out, but thanks for holding the door for us.” She leans across and lays claim to her partner with a kiss that I’d be proud of. One that makes me feel like a piece of shit for hitting on someone else’s girlfriend.

“Sorry, ladies. I was just enjoying the view. Have a great workout session, wherever you may choose to have it.” They keep walking into the gym, laughing between themselves, while I pick up my jaw and head back to my room. Damn, they make one very attractive couple, and I look like one giant dick. I hope my luck is better tonight, otherwise it could be just me and Mrs. Palmer back in my room and that would really suck.

When I get to my room, I strip down, and jump into the shower. My phone starts ringing, and I see it’s my mom. There’s no way I’m talking to my mother on the phone while I stand naked in the bathroom. Doesn’t matter I can’t see her, and she can’t see me, it’s just too weird. I let it ring out and message her that I’ll call back shortly. Feeling the hot beads of water hitting my head and shoulders, I relax into the shower. Nothing beats it after a good workout. Standing there washing, my mind starts wandering back to my case files. Even when I’m not at work, it’s hard not to be thinking about it.

The case I was working last week is still hanging in the back of my mind. It was a young teenage boy who was working at the local gas station and was shot when an armed hold-up went wrong. The poor young guy was just trying to make a few extra dollars to take the pressure off his family income. Having to inform victims’ parents is the hardest part of my job. No family wants a policeman knocking on their door with bad news. Makes you want to hug your own family just that little bit tighter.

Finishing my shower, I need to call my mom back just to hear her voice. Just to know she’s safe. Dad is with her, but whenever a case sits bothering my mind, I need to reassure myself the people who are important to me are safe and I don’t need to be worrying about them too. There’s not enough room in my brain for that. If Xavier were here, he would have some smart comment to say about my brain being so small it can only think of one thing at a time. I can hear his laughter in my head, the bastard.

Phone call with Mom. Tick.

Dressed, wallet and key card packed in my pocket. Tick.

Room presentable in case I’m lucky enough to bring back a guest. Tick.

Ready to head out and hit the town. Tick.

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