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CHAPTER SEVEN
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FALCO
I sat at my desk, breathing a little heavily. I hated lying to the captain. I especially hated lying to the captain on my first day, and I really, really hated lying to him to protect a partner who was very likely to use excessive force again. I saw the look in Hicks’s eyes. She wanted to beat the guy to death. I didn't blame her. She had a gun to her temple. I’d never been in that position before but I’m pretty sure that I would take strong exception to someone who took me hostage and held a gun to my head.
Hicks was my partner and I needed to support her, and damn if she didn’t have my back on the whole ‘warning shot’ thing. If she hadn’t helped me out, I would have very likely had to surrender my weapon and faced suspension while an investigation took place. I could only imagine how brief my career in Metro would have been had that occurred.
“Good job back there, Falco,” Hicks whispered to me, sitting down at her desk next to mine. “That took balls, pal, and you’ve got a set. I have to say, it made me a little wet.”
She turned and open an incident report document on her computer leaving me to guess about the implications of the whole ‘wet’ comment. In Franklin, nearly all the female cops swore like drunken sailors and talked shit to the other officers, men and women alike. It made me wonder if that’s what this was, or whether the comment had an underlying meaning.
It was well past seven o’clock when we’d finished our reports, comparing our notes along the way. We clicked the send button, which sent the reports to the captain and to the office of the division commander, who was certain to take a long look at it. I think Hicks could tell the whole thing was making me nervous.
“Relax, Falco. C’mon, let’s grab some dinner,” she said to me.
“I should probably just get home,” I said.
She blew a raspberry, “Home? Fuck that. We’re gonna grab some food and a drink at Yakety Sax.”
“What’s Yakety Sax?” I asked.
“Cop bar,” she replied. “I owe you a drink in a big way after today and I always pay my debts. You saved my bacon. You did good today.”
We went into the lockers to grab our bags and change. I finished first and waited for her outside the women’s lockers. She appeared in a tight white top that was sheer enough for me to see a perfect outline of her pushup bra. She wore jeans and some fashionable leather flats. Her hair looked much better. It was combed out into loose waves hanging about shoulder length.
“Woah,” I said. “You scrub up pretty nice.”
“That sounds like language inappropriate for the workplace,” she replied, her face looking serious.
I paused, wondering what I’d say to backpedal from that and noticed her face transforming into a broad smile.
“Relax, Falco,” she chuckled, “I’m just fuckin’ with ya. Chill out, man. You’re gonna have to get that stick out of your ass if you’re going to fit in here.”
I shook my head, ‘Ok, you busted me. I was worried for a minute. Give me the address and I’ll follow you.”
Twenty minutes later, we both pulled into the Yakety Sax, named after a song by an old-time recording artist, Boots Randolph. The bar was on the bottom floor of a large, brick building. The other floors held condominiums.
When we walked in, perhaps a third of the people in the bar cheered Hicks. Word of our collar had gotten around. I had a few people congratulating me as well, but it was obvious that Hicks was the star of the show. It was fine by me.
We joined a group at a large table. Besides myself and Hicks, there were seven other officers at the table. The only one I'd met and had talked to previously besides Hicks was Officer Shawna White, the black officer I’d met earlier that morning. I sat to her right. Hicks took a seat to my right.
“You like turkey melt, Falco?” she asked me.
“I don’t know what that is,” I replied.
“Slices of turkey and bacon on a wheat roll with melted swiss cheese, lettuce, mayo and onions,” Shawna said. “You’ll love it.”
“Sounds good,” I said. “I’ll have one and a beer too.”
“You’ll have a shot of Jim Beam in that beer, too, right?” Shawna asked, her speech slightly slurred. It was obvious to me that Shawna had been there a while and drinking the whole time. Shawna was dressed in a skin-tight top and pants. Her pants looked like they were just waiting to split open. Her face was pretty. Her lips were full and painted red, drawing attention to the small gap between her two front teeth.
“Naw, I don’t think so,” I said. “I have to drive home.”
“Hey, Belinda!” Shawna called out to the waitress, ignoring what I’d said. “Bring this man a boilermaker, tall Bud and Beam.”
“Got it Shawna,” came the answer.
“Think of it as an initiation, Falco,” Hicks told me. “Trying to resist Shawna would be an exercise in futility. She’s always going to win.”
“Your damn skippy,” Shawna barked, sliding her arm around me, pushing her large bosom into my arm. “You did good today, rookie. You took care of my girl. That means you’re alright in my book.”
I wanted to remind Shawna that I wasn’t a rookie. I had three years of experience with the Franklin PD. I decided to just go with it, though. Everyone was having a good time. It was my first day. I did well. I was gaining approval from my partner. Everything seemed good.
Shawna and Hicks were right about the turkey melt—it was damn good, and the beer was ice cold and extra tasty, spiked with the Jim Beam. I listened to Hicks run down what had happened at the collar, perhaps admitting too much about the use of force, too much for my taste, given what we had just written in our reports.
Hicks had downed two shots of Jim Beam and a full beer, by the time I had drained two-thirds of my first. Shawna was already snookered, having a great time. It seemed like a good group of officers, all close, all seeming to support each other. Hicks had been sneaking looks at me all night. The alcohol had empowered her to not hide the looks so much. She wanted me, I could tell, but she wasn’t the only one.
Hicks had ordered her second beer and announced she was going to ‘hit the head and make some room.’ While she was gone a very drunk Shawna White slipped her arm around me again and whispered in my ear, “Hey rook, have you ever done the nasty with a fellow police officer in your patrol car?”
I chuckled, “Why no, I haven’t,” I replied. “Have you?”
“Oh yeah, baby,” she whispered again. “I had the cuffs on and everything.”
She began to rub her left hand over my biceps. “Hot . . . damn,” she whispered. “You got muscles on your muscles, baby.”
My face reddened a little, “Thanks.”
“You know, the first time I saw you, I said to myself, ‘I’m gonna break off a piece of that white boy,’” she continued.
Hicks walked back to her seat from the restroom. I could also see Shawna’s amorous whispering was starting to gather attention.
“What are you doing, Shawna?” Hicks asked loud enough for the entire table to hear. “Can’t you give this boy a single break on his first day?”
“I’m just trying to make sure he gets a proper greeting and initiation, girl,” she said.
“After the day he’s had, I’m not sure he could survive one of your initiations,” Hicks replied. The entire group laughed, Shawna could be heard laughing above the rest.
“Alright, then,” Shawna said, standing. She looked at me and winked, “I’ll let you off with a warning this time. We’ll talk later then. I gotta go.”
I noticed two of the officers were drinking soda water and coffee. An officer named Cowers stood up with her, “Her place is on my way home. I’ll drop her off.”
“Yeah, we know why you wanna drop her off, Cowers,” another officer said, drawing laughter from the others.
“Ain’t gonna happen,” Shawna said. “I’ve talked to his old girlfriend.”
She held up her little pinky. The others roared in laughter.
“It’s late. I have to go, too,” another officer said.
“Yeah, me too,” two more chimed in unison. The group started to get up to leave. They were paying their bills and saying their goodbyes.
I looked at Hicks, “You need a designated driver?” I asked.
“Nope,” she said, smiling from ear to ear, clearly feeling buzzed.
“Really?” I came back. “You don’t look like you should be driving to me.”
“I won’t be driving,” she said.
“So . . . what? Uber?”
“Nope,” she replied and then pointed her finger toward the ceiling. “I live on the sixth floor of this building. 6C.”
“That’s convenient,” I told her.
“It is.”
“Looks like you don’t need me,” I said. “I was going to be a gentleman and drive you home.”
“If you were a real gentleman, you’d walk me to my door,” she replied.
I checked out her smile. It was a tad mischievous. I thought about it for a minute as I allowed my eyes to flow over her body again. It had been an extraordinary day, to be sure. We had been thrust into a situation that caused us to form an early bond. We had been there and we had done that. I had learned my lesson, hadn’t I? Jesus, she was hot.