Corbin

I walked back to my motorcycle in total shock, trying to process what had just happened.

This is not how this is supposed to work. I’m the one who does the kicking out. Not the girl. Me.  

A voice piped up inside me, though. Maybe it was the voice of reason–like I’ve ever fucking listened to it. The voice said I shouldn’t be so ungrateful about the whole deal. I mean shit, it was my first night out of prison and I went home with the hottest girl in the bar. Her brown hair and lightly tanned skin killed me, just killed me. And damn, those eyes. I was getting hard again just thinking about her.

Hearing Alexa’s moans with her body beneath me reminded me that I was, after almost two years locked up, a free fucking man.

Emphasis on the fucking.

Still. Fucking bitch didn’t even let me stick around for a round two. Now that’s heartbreak—never getting to feel her flesh on my hips again.

I turned the key in the ignition on my motorcycle and shook my head. Let it go, man. It’s not like you were going to try to hang out with her. You just wanted a hot piece of ass to bang on your first night out of prison.

I had to chuckle at the fact that I didn’t even know Alexa’s last name, and here I was all butthurt that she was the one who rushed me out. Shit, Corbin, get a fucking hold of yourself.

I glanced at my watch. Almost seven a.m. Jesus. How long did we fuck for? I kicked my motorcycle into gear and left Alexa’s apartment in the dust. Fuck it. Even if I did give her the best lay of her life, I’d eventually chew her up and spit her out.

Besides, I had to follow up with the office today and do what they asked of me if I didn’t want to end right back up in that shithole known as Folsom Prison.

After all, I was totally disregarding the terms of my parole by going to Mexico in the first place. The last thing I needed was a lasting entanglement to remind me of it.”

*    *    *

I poured myself a generous cup of coffee in Ned’s office at the DEA’s headquarters.  

I sipped the dark brown liquid and recoiled at the heat, still accustomed to the cold coffee they had served us in prison. “Ned, do you have any cream?”

Ned stared back at me like I had just said the sun was green.

“Cream? You’re worried about cream right now? Jesus fucking Christ, Corbin. Jesus H. It’s right on the side of the microwave. Jesus.” Ned paced around his room, too worked up to sit behind his large oak monstrosity of a desk.  

“Ah. There it is,” I peeked behind the microwave. “Oh my gosh! You even have those little vanilla flavored cream packets! I love these things. Let me tell you Ned, the coffee in prison—I’ll be damned if sometimes they just didn’t take a little dirt and throw it in the water and heat it up until it was luke-cold. And definitely no cream. Shit no. But sometimes we’d steal a packet or two of butter and make our own…Hey, you look really worked up, buddy. Are you okay?”

Beads of sweat rolled from the corners of Ned’s receding brown hairline as he paced back and forth.  He had undone the top button of his ironed white shirt and loosened the knot of his tie.  His sleeves were rolled up, exposing his hairy forearms as if he had been at the office working through the night on some ball-buster of a problem.

“Corbin, do I look fucking okay to you?” Ned yelped, ceasing his back-and-forth pacing for a moment.  

“No, you don’t look okay at all. You look stressed. Do you want a cup of coffee? I made extra.” I nodded toward the Mr. Coffee and arched an eyebrow at Ned.

“Un-goddamn-believable, Corbin.  On the first night after your release—after I explicitly told you to stay out of trouble—I get a report from border patrol that says you came over the Mexico/United States border at two fucking thirty this morning? And you’re yapping on about how you like cream in your coffee like that’s not a problem? Is this true or are my sources wrong?”

Ned put his hands on his hips like an angry parent whose kid was in the principal’s office.

There was just one problem. This wasn’t a school, and what I did with my personal time sure as hell wasn’t any of Ned’s business.

I concentrated on putting the third and final cream packet into my coffee while I stood next to the microwave. I wasn’t sure why Ned had such an ax to grind with me when I was basically the heart and soul of this whole goddamn operation.

“It’s true,” I said as I turned around and took a step toward him.  “I am a cream guy. I love it. Everyone sees me and thinks tattooed, shady looking guy like that? He’s definitely a black coffee guy. But I love cream for my hangover coffee. I’ll even have a latte once in a while or if it’s hot I’ll have an icy cold—”

Ned pounded his desk with both fists, interrupting me.

“Holy shit, Corbin. Wow! You think this is funny. Just one big joke about cream in your fucking coffee. Do I look like I’m goddamn laughing? This is the DEA Corbin, and your early release is contingent on your cooperation. I’m your superior and I’m asking you a question: Did you or did you not roll past border patrol with some Mexican prostitute at two thirty—” Ned paused and looked at his watch, “—for the love of God Corbin, that wasn’t even six hours ago. I can still smell the broad’s perfume on you!”

“Whoa, whoa whoa! That’s totally unfair, Ned. Honestly, I’m offended.”

Ned took a deep breath and relaxed his shoulders.  “Thank God. So you’re saying my sources are wrong. That you weren’t across the border last night?”

“No, that’s pretty much right.  Except she wasn’t just some prostitute, Ned! Honestly I thought we had a pretty good connection for one night. And damn, if you woulda seen how gorgeous she was you’d have brought her home yourself. Beautiful dark brown hair, banging body.  And this cream-coffee colored skin. It was so soft I actually felt bad that she had to deal with my stubble. And I don’t usually feel bad, Ned. About almost anything.” I took a pull of my coffee and made an audible slurping noise. “Oohh. That’s the perfect temperature. Finally.”

Ned looked at me blankly, jaw open. Clearly he was used to his agents obeying his every order without question. He brought his hand to his forehead and massaged it with his thumb and forefinger.  “We’re out here trying to catch Luis Reyes—the biggest drug dealer of modern times—and my fucking double agent is more concerned about getting his rocks off than taking this seriously. I swear to God.”

“Hey Ned, buck up, pal,” I walked over to him and put my hand on his shoulder.  The guy looked like he needed some serious comforting, and not just about the mission. “I’m just trying to fit in, okay? If I’m going to go undercover, I figure I better stick with my old habits in the outside world so I don’t arouse any suspicion. Me having a one-night stand with a girl isn’t suspicious. You know what is suspicious?  If I get out of prison and I stop partying like I used to. I just need you to trust me, okay? I’m staying in character. It’s all an act.”

Whatever I had to say at this point to get Ned off my ass, I’d say. But at the same time, he knew I was right.

Ned leaned back on his solid oak desk and folded his arms. “That’s exactly the problem Corbin. I don’t know if I can trust you. Is this really an act? Or are you just unreliable and unpredictable? I was already skeptical. And after the shit you pulled on your first night out, I have my doubts.”

I rubbed my stubble with my hand. Two years in prison and a lifetime of crime hadn’t exactly turned me into an ego-assuager who would grovel before his superiors.  Especially given the dire straits the DEA had to be in to make a deal with a guy like me in the first place. They’d been trying to catch Reyes for years without any luck. “So what are you going to do? Put me in jail and find another ex-con who has years of experience working with the Reyes gang?  Who spent a year in the same cellblock with one of the Reyes cousins? Get real, Ned. I’m all you’ve got.”

“Maybe. But I’m going to take the necessary precautions,” Ned cleared his throat, “Which is why I’m bringing one of the DEA’s top foremost psychological evaluation specialists to interview you.  If you’re lying—we’ll find out. And we will put you back in prison if you’re not on our side. She’ll be coming in this afternoon to deal with you. So head out, get some lunch, whatever, and make sure you’re back here later.”

I took a large gulp of my coffee and swallowed. “She. A girl, huh?”

“Yes Corbin, a girl.”

I sat back down and smiled as I held on to my coffee mug. “Alright, I’ll do your little interrogation thingy.”

Who knew? Maybe she’d be cute.