Page 4 of His Valentine

Fuck, I can still taste her. I can still feel the way her lithe body pressed against mine. I can hear her soft moans in my damn sleep. No fucking more. I’m not going another damn week without Kennedy. I don’t give a goddamn if I have to go nine rounds with nine of my friends. I’m getting the woman who’s meant to be mine. She and her daughter, they’ll both be mine, no matter the consequences.

Jagger: Damn, miss that girl. Being away outta the country sucks sometimes.

I shake my head. Given the chance, Jagger is out doing something. This time, he’s in Costa Rica catching the waves and I’m sure picking up a local lady for the week.

Luke: You know where the key is to my house. Even if I’m not there, feel free to use it. I’ll look at my schedule and text tomorrow.

Tysen: I’m about to be in the air. Someone send me the Cliffs, talk later.

Jude: I’m good with whatever. Not taking notes, though. You’re on your own, Ty.

Matthew: My office is available. Like the rest, I’m good with whatever.

Crew: Sorry, my place is unavailable. Plus, you pussies bitch about how cold it is.

Jagger: Bro, you freeze our balls off all for the sake of your precious computers.

Johnny: Jagger has balls. Never would have guessed.

Asher: Figure shit out. Let me know what we’re working with. I’m not talking about anyone’s balls.

Matthew: Unless it’s yours?

Jagger: Fuck all of y’all.

Crew: Thanks, but no thanks, buddy.

Asher: Where the hell is Trent? His place is always empty, too, yet he’s not offering it.

I finish going through the remaining texts. All of the guys are pissing off or pissing on one another in one joke or another. Everyone has a key or a way to enter each other’s places; it’s not even a matter of me offering my house. Though, Asher has the pad with the pool. Johnny’s house is more of a penthouse apartment. Jude’s house is as cold as the North Pole, and we usually take turns stepping outside to thaw. It doesn’t seem to bother him a single bit.

Me: I’m on a case. Depending how shit goes, I may be there, I may not. Feel free to use my place, but don’t drink all my beers, you fucks.

I back at out of that text thread and see that my dad has responded.

Dad: All good here, just checking in. Sometime this week, swing by the house. Got something I want to talk to you about.

Me: That’s a loaded statement. Everything alright?

Dad: Oh yeah. Gran is ready to turn in her keys. Which means I’ve got a set of wheels that will be sitting around. I’m sure you know someone who is looking for a car.

Me: Did Gran run something over, and I need to clear the ticket? That’s the only way she’ll willingly hand over her keys, Dad. So, what’s really going on? And yeah, I know someone who’s looking for a car. I’ll be over first thing in the morning.

Dad: Thanks, bud. Love you, stay safe.

Me: Always, love you, too.

I shut my phone down, close my eyes, and take a moment to center myself. When Dad doesn’t talk about what’s happening over the phone, it means bad fucking news. The joke I made about her needing me to get her out of a ticket isn’t out of pocket, either. My Gran has racked up more parking and speeding tickets than anyone else I know. Some I’ve been able to help take care of, others I’ve paid the dues, and she’s none the wiser. We’ve all tried to tell her it’s time to slow down and let others take care of her. Now that Dad’s retired and he’s got more time on his hands, things must have changed. This case has had me working day and night the past couple of weeks. I’ve barely come up for air. Gran now lives in the semi-attached mother-in-law suite Mom demanded Dad build years ago when she noticed both of their parents were getting up there in age. Sadly, Mom’s parents only used it for a few months before Grandad passed away suddenly from a heart attack. Grandma didn’t last much longer after losing the man she’s loved forever. Life works inmysterious ways. After that happened, Mom retired, told Dad he needed to do the same or at least take more vacations. He did the latter, only retired last year from his job at an accounting firm. They’ve been coming and going more than they ever did before. They’ll call early in the morning to tell me they’re heading to Biloxi for the weekend to gamble. They’ll do similar, only they’ll already be in Atlantic City. It’s the best of both worlds for them. Dad likes to gamble, Mom likes to take in the sights and watch a show, so they do a little bit of both.

“Sorry about that,” I tell Chase, taking another gulp of coffee.

“Ehh, no need to apologize. How many times have I had to step outside to take a call or answer a message? We’ve all got shit on our plates,” he says as the back door opens.

“Fuckin’ finally,” I state, watching as DeMarco and his second-in-command, Lynch, come into view.

“Thinkin’ we’re about to split up. Which one you want?” Chase asks.

“I’ll take DeMarco.”

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