Page 7 of Stella
My dog,Calli, looks up at me and makes that unsatisfied woof as the lady in the drive-through hands me my breakfast wrap and coffee.
“Aww, she’s so sweet!” The server says, cooing at the K-9 sitting next to me.
I smirk. “Yeah, she knows how to get what she wants.”
She smiles, handing me the last item; Calli’s pup cup. “There you go, have a great day.”
“Thank you, ma’am, you too.” The window rolls back up, and I pull out.
Calli whines. “Not yet,” I tell her. “Gotta wait until we’re parked, that’s the deal.”
I barely get time to eat on the job, so once a week, we treat ourselves. Calli’s smart, a Rottweiler-German Shepherd mix. A highly trained detective dog who is not only ferocious looking but also intelligent. Calli became my partner about six months ago, and while she is here to help me in my day-to-day duties, we have fun where we can. What most people don’t know is when she’s not working, she prefers tummy tickles and cuddling herfavorite toy — a mangled teddy bear I call Pookie. Oh, and pup cups.
As soon as I’m parked, I let her have it. Usually, she devours the thing in less than ten seconds, then she’ll stare at me for a bite of my bacon wrap until I give in. Anyone would think I never fed her, but that couldn’t be further from the truth.
I’ve always been a dog guy; they just seem to respond to me. I’ve never met an animal I didn’t like, so that could have something to do with it, people however? Yeah, people are a different kettle of fish. I took an oath, and that oath is to protect and serve, and I do that daily, but I’m okay with admitting that people can be a lot.
Right as I’m taking my last bite, my dispatcher calls and then we’re moving closer to downtown. There’s never a dull moment in my job, and while I’m usually working on a case, mainly narcotics and illegal activity, Calli and I are usually only patrolling a few times a week because the department is short-staffed, but that’s nothing new. I don’t mind the change of pace, even if the last job entailed more than I bargained for.
Then again, when it comes to the NOLA Rebels MC, nothing surprises me anymore. They think I spend my days sitting around compiling shit against them, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. Trouble finds that club without me doing shit. If it isn’t drug cartels, the mafia, rival MCs, jealous boyfriends, crazy family members, shootings, stabbings, deals gone wrong, or kidnapping, then I’d seriously have nothing much else to do in New Orleans. Okay, that’s stretching the truth. They aren’t 1%ers and that’s something, but they still get into enough trouble to warrant a visit every now and then, which I do. Regularly. The MC may think they rule things around here, but that is coming to an end. It’s time law enforcement took back the reins to this city, and not motorcycle clubs and the Irish mafia; someone they’re close with and have an unlikely alliance. I know about all of it,including Big Papa, who runs the underworld since the rival MC was taken out, along with the Italian mafia. This city has seen some shit, and I bet if the walls of the Rebels clubhouse could talk, there would be some serious secrets spilled. Despite what the club thinks, I don’t hate them. Well, I dislike them, that’s not the same as hate. And I have my reasons. Reasons that I’m still trying to get to the bottom of. It’s no secret I keep the Rebels on my radar, and it isn’t just for the benefit of the people in this city.
I don’t give a fuck if I’m a thorn in their side. They don’t intimidate me, and they don’t scare me. Maybe I am a little cocky for my age. At twenty-eight, I’m doing better than most would’ve expected. I made my grandparents proud, and that’s what matters.
I always knew I wanted to be a cop from an early age, and when my grandparents encouraged it, I did everything I could to make sure I was top of my class. I came from nothing to make myself into something. Maybe it was to prove more to myself that I could be something more than my junkie mom. The woman who never wanted me. Who told people I had died at birth.
I’ve been pulling double shifts lately, hence the reason I yawn through most of the morning. Last night I worked from three to eleven, and then I was back at work at seven this morning. It’s just how it is sometimes, and I’m not afraid of hard work, in fact, I revel in it. Ever since I left the academy, I’ve always given one hundred percent. No matter the situation.
I head to the address from dispatch; a minor traffic offense. A collision of a motorist who hit a fire hydrant. Luckily, the impact was minor, and she won’t need an ambulance, but she’s pretty shaken up.
In this line of work, you just never know what you’re going to be faced with. Sometimes people are reasonable, and sometimes you come across things you literally can’t explain. I should thankthe dispatcher for making my morning a relatively easy one, but I know that won’t last.
The young woman is crying because she’s worried about her boyfriend’s insurance.
“Gonna need that bumper fixed,” I say to her, handing her a tissue. “Know a place where you won’t get ripped off, but you’ll need to calm down so you can drive.”
I don’t like it when ladies cry, and being only nineteen, she’s clearly not had a traffic accident like this before. Lucky her.
“I can’t drive!” she wails. “I can’t!”
I frown. “Are you hurt?”
“I-no, but that isn’t the point. My boyfriend is gonna kill me.”
I give her a pointed look. “I hope you mean that figuratively.”
She blows the hair out of her face, clearly annoyed at herself. “Of course not. We only have one car. Urgh, I’m so dumb! How could I do that? I just lost control.”
I was sure she’d been texting, but no, it seems that Amanda just can’t keep the vehicle on the road. She also wasn’t speeding, but probably took the corner too fast. The vehicle has a V8 engine, and it’s clearly too much for her. Some people really need to think about alternative transportation.
“Your car is drivable, so after you pull yourself together, follow me and we’ll head to Tag’s.”
She blinks. “Who’s Tag?”
“The mechanics where you can get it fixed,” I say patiently. “They won’t do a shitty job or overcharge you.”
“That’s um, kind of you, but I don’t know what it’ll cost…”
I’m getting the idea that Amanda hasn’t had much luck in her life this far. She seems like she has a lot on her plate for someone so young. “They’ll give you a quote, and then you can discuss it with your boyfriend before they do any work. I promise you it’ll be fair.”
