Page 3 of Recklessly You
The old bald bastard owner runs up to me. “Are you taking him in? Kids like this start young. He needs to go to juvie.”
I snap at the idiot, “He’s ten, and his dad had him steal it. I’m going after the father.” I leave the store, and we go to the apartments to find the asshole dad waiting outside for the kid. Stepping out, I slip on my aviator shades.
“Is there a problem, Officer? What did my kid do?” He fists his hand on his hips, and he reeks of liquor and cigarettes.
Motherfucker, I hate men like him. Men who take their children for granted, treat them like a burden, like scum on their shoes.
“He did nothing. It’s whatyoudid.”
He blinks, attempting to appear innocent. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yeah, you do. You had your son steal a bottle of whiskey. Child services are on their way. Men like you don’t deserve children. From the records we pulled up, this has happened numerous times.” I take my handcuffs out and push him against the SUV.
After a long-ass fucking day, John and I make it back to the station at the end of our shift. Walking to my locker to collect my belongings down the corridor, I glance at the fallen officer’s memorial. The photo of my father reads “Manuel (Manny) Rodriguez—Detective” with several medals surrounding it. I swallow the lump that forms every day when I see his photo.
The man I lost. The man my mother lost.
Under my breath, I say, “I will find them.”
* * *
I stepinside my mom’s house, and the sound of the metal screen door clangs behind me. I find her in the kitchen, gently rolling out a dough sheet with a rolling pin while humming an old tune. She shapes the dough into a perfect circle. For years, my mom has mustered a smile, a laugh. The pain in her eyes never stops seething, though. I know the feeling too well. When she feels me near, her head lifts. And she smiles a genuine smile, her eyes sparkling with love.
“Hey, Mamá.” I kiss her cheek.
“My Liam, how was work, mijo? Hopefully, nothing dangerous.”
When I achieved my eighteenth birthday and graduated from high school, I immediately pursued an undergraduate degree in Criminal Justice. Three years later, at the age of twenty-one, I put myself into the police academy. I understand why my mother worries for me every day. It’s a risky line of work.
“I started my morning off by arresting a man who had his son steal liquor for him. Social services picked him up. He had no family. Mom, it broke my heart. I hope he gets a good foster home.” I sigh. My heart aches when I see cases like these. It has me thinking of little Rosa.
“Let’s keep him in our prayers,” she says as she flips a tortilla over the skillet.
“What’s for dinner?” I usually come over for dinner and join her.
“I made your favorite pollochickenand rice.” She winks with a soft smile.
We eat in silence for the first five minutes. This is always how it’s been. The empty chair next to us—she always glances at it. I clear my throat.
“Have you spoken to Rosa?” I ask as I scoop a mouthful of rice.
“This morning. She’s doing good, finishing her last year in art school. She was thinking of returning to be an art teacher or opening her own art studio.”
A grin creases her face with pride. When Rosaline was three years old, my aunt dropped her off at my mom’s and never returned. She disposed of her like trash on the side of the road. My mother worked two jobs to support us. Rosaline is more of a little sister to me than a cousin. She brought light into our lives when we were in a dark place.
“I’m proud of her,” I say.
She nods as she takes a sip of her drink. “I bumped into Dominic.”
I lift my head and meet her wide smile. I chuckle and shake my head. “Oh, yeah? What did he tell you?”
“Well, he introduced me to his son. I’m so happy for him. His son looks just like him—adorable. He’s so happy.”
“He’s whipped,” I say, throwing my head back in laughter. I’ve known Dominic since we were seven years old, when I changed elementary schools. We became best friends. We always hung out at his house since my mom worked a lot. No woman has had Dominic by the balls like Mila. They were high school sweethearts. He’s been pussy-whipped since the day he met her. I’m glad; she’s good for him.
My mother narrows her eyes and glares at me. “I’m telling you, Liam, one of these days, a woman will put you in your place.You’llbe whipped.” There’s a teasing glint in her eyes. She gives me an enthusiastic smile. “It’s true, sweetheart. Put your money where your mouth is.” Then she gasps dramatically. “I’veneverseen you with a woman.” Her eyes widen in thought.
“Trust me, I like women. Just because you haven’t seen me with one attached to my hip doesn’t mean I’m not into them. Mamà, I’m not interested in having a family and such. I like the single life.”
