Now You See Me, Now You Don’t

After two hours of paperwork, they were both exhausted and Day felt like he’d been rubbing his eyes with sandpaper.

Day heard God clearing his throat before he coughed again. “I’m going to stop by the convenience store on the corner and grab some cough drops,” God said.

“Good, I want some coffee,” Day groaned as he reclined in God’s comfortable truck.

“Of course,” God replied between coughs.

“You all right, dude? You have been coughing like that for over a week.” Day kept his eyes closed while he spoke.

“I’m good. I think it’s just allergies,” God said with a shrug.

Day didn’t think anything else about it. God was as stubborn as a mule, especially when it came to his health or, heaven forbid, going to see a doctor. He couldn’t even recall the last time his partner had a checkup. Not even after his biceps got cut by a perp they arrested last year. Day had tried to convince him he needed stitches, but God insisted it was just a flesh wound—the jagged scar was still very visible.

God jerked into the parking space and slammed on the brakes right before his front bumper came into contact with the brick wall.

“Jesus, man. You trying to kill us?” Day huffed. “You don’t always have to drive like you're auditioning for the Grand Prix.”

“Stop bitching, Miss Daisy. If you don’t like my driving, you can always ride that crotch rocket to work,” God replied with an annoyed expression.

“Whatever. Let’s just hurry up.” Day made his way into the small store right behind God’s massive figure. Before the overhead cowbell could stop ringing, Day asked the clerk, “You got a fresh pot back there?”

“Yes. Just started it five minutes ago,” the clerk replied with a thick Asian accent.

“Good man.” Day made his way to the back of the store. God turned down the cold medicine aisle.

Day hummed as he poured the steaming brew into the largest cup the store had and popped open about fifteen creamers. Day liked his coffee with a lot of cream and sugar, and he wasn’t ashamed to open a ton of the mini-servings until his cup was just right.

Day was stirring the golden-brown liquid and was about to take a sample taste when he heard the store’s cowbell ding. Five seconds later he heard a demand shouted by a male voice.

“Don’t move, old man! Empty the drawer right now!”

Then something, or things, went crashing to the floor.

“Don’t do anything stupid. I don’t want to hurt you. Just give me the money!” the guy shouted.

Day couldn’t see over the rows of shelves, but from the sound of it, the robber had to be in his late teens, early twenties. Great. Day took his cup and went by the coolers across the back of the store. He peeked down the aisle that God was in and saw him reading the label on some cough syrup as he popped a cough drop into his mouth.

Really, God?

Day eased up to his partner, careful not to make a sound. “Did you find what you needed?” he whispered to God.

“Yep.” God turned to look at him.

“Don’t you hear the place being robbed?”

“Yep.”

“Are you going to stop it?”

“Yep.”

“Now you see me, now you don’t?” Day winked.

“Yep.”

God put the cough syrup and drops in his coat pocket and strolled to the front of the store.

Day went back around to come up the aisle closest to the door. He heard the young man yell again.

“Open the safe! Hurry up. Don’t try to stall me.”

Ugh. Fucking amateur.

God turned at the end of the aisle and saw a small figure in front of the counter shakily pointing a .22 caliber handgun at the terrified clerk. The boy couldn’t be over eighteen years old. He had a red-and-blue Braves ball cap pulled down low on his face, and his black hoodie was zipped up to his chin and pulled up over the cap. The jeans were faded and extremely tight, and God found himself wondering if the guy’s balls were pissed off at him.

God took quiet steps toward the counter and was only a few feet from the boy before he whirled his gun around and pointed it at God.

The kid jerkily moved his head up and down, taking in God’s appearance. His chiseled face, massive bulk, and sheer height had the boy’s eyes widening to two times their size

“Hey! Don’t move! Put your hands up!”

“No,” God said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“W-what,” the boy stammered.

The pain and uncertainty in the kid’s eyes was familiar to him.

He gave God a pleading glare. “Look, man. Just get down okay. I don’t want to kill you.”

“Good, ’cause I don’t want to die,” God said with a stone face.

“I have the gun. Now put your damn hands up!” The young, pimply face was a mask of anger, but his shaking hands betrayed his fear.

“Hey, how much for the cup of coffee?” Day yelled in a voice that was way too loud. “Oh shit, my bad. I didn’t see you over there with the gun.”

The teen whirled around toward Day. “Yeah, so get your hands up,” he snapped.

“Not you.” Day pointed around the kid’s shoulder. “Him.”

When the kid spun back around he was staring down the barrel of God’s very large Desert Eagle, looking like he was going to piss himself.

Now you see me, now you don’t. Works every time.

“Mine’s bigger than yours,” God said casually.

“Literally,” Day said around a smirk.

God rolled his eyes at his partner while focusing on the kid. “Slowly drop your weapon and kick it over, then put your hands behind your head.”

“Okay, easy, man.” The boy slowly eased his small handgun to the floor. “Please. Just don’t shoot me.”

“Not gonna shoot you, kid,” he said while pulling the silver chain from inside his shirt and revealing his gold badge. He saw the kid push his gun toward God’s feet and scramble to get all the way down, putting his cheek on the dirty floor. He hadn’t asked him to lie down. This kid was obviously not a hardened criminal. He took his eyes off his suspect and saw that Day was reading a Muscle & Fitness magazine from the rack. God rolled his eyes again.

“Day, get over here and pay for our shit. I’ll handle ‘world’s dumbest criminal—the high school edition.’ Get your ass up and come with me, kid.” God pulled the boy up by his collar and took the small handgun, tucking it into his waistband at the small of his back.

He walked them around to where he was parked and threw the boy against the side of his truck. He patted him down—none to gently—and yanked a worn Velcro wallet from his back pocket. Fucking Velcro Twilight wallet… are you kiddin’ me? He spun the kid so that he was facing him, and pushed him hard against the truck’s bed.

“Officer, please. I’m sor—”

“Detective,” God barked, cutting him off. “What the hell are you doing, sticking up a mom-and-pop store? How fucking old are you?”

God yanked the ID out and scanned it. Curtis Lamont Jackson, he lived four blocks from here and was only seventeen.

“I-I’m seventeen, sir,” the kid stammered. Sweat was pouring down his face and his arms shook while he kept them raised with his fingers linked behind his head.

“Put your fucking hands down for Christ’s sake,” God snarled, looking the kid up and down. “You’re a goddamn baby, out here playing a big boy’s game.”

He stepped back from the trembling kid and saw that his light blue eyes were glistening with fear, or maybe it was sadness. He couldn’t tell.

“I’m not a baby, sir.”

“Pfft, please. I can smell the Similac on your breath from over here.” God huffed.

Day came around the corner with a small brown bag, and leaned casually against the hood. “Dude, is that team Edward on his wallet?” Day doubled over with laughter.

“Shut up, Leo. Did you get a statement from the clerk?”

“Yep.” Day held up the piece of paper.

“Sir, I’m really sorry. Please, I swear I wasn’t going to shoot anyone,” he whined.

“I know that. Your gun doesn’t have any bullets in it,” God said drily.

The boy looked at him in shock.

“I didn’t know that until I picked it up… it’s too light. But I still could’ve shot you before I knew that.”

“Sir, my mom is sick. She’s on a hemodialysis machine and she has to use it every night, sometimes twice during the day, or she’ll get extremely sick. She has acute renal failure. They cut our power off last night.” Curtis looked down at the pavement. “The machine runs on electricity.”

God knew the boy wasn’t lying. No one—especially his age—could come up with that kind of lie and look as heartbroken as he did.

“So robbing someone was your solution?” Day asked.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know what else to do. My entire paycheck went to the rent, and I didn’t qualify for another extension for the electric. I did try to think of other options… but there are none. I can’t go to jail, please, my mom needs me. I’m all she’s got.” A single tear fell down his red cheek.

“Get in the truck,” God ordered.

Curtis’s gaze frantically darted between them. “Please, I’m begging you. I can’t go to jail. My mom will die. I have a good job. If I don’t show up tomorrow, I’ll be fired.” The tears were flowing down his face, and God’s heart clenched. He knew what it was like for a young man to take on the responsibility of caring for his mom. It wasn’t fair, but it was life.

“Get in.” Day backed him up.

God practically tossed the boy in the back seat and went around to the driver’s side. Day climbed in on his side and turned to look at him. They were looking at each other, communicating just as effectively as if both were talking. He knew what Day was thinking… he usually did. They turned and looked at the kid. He had his knees pulled up to his chest as he rocked back and forth.

“I swear, I’d never hurt anyone, even if I’d had bullets. I would never have shot him, and I would’ve paid it back. See?”

God watched the boy pull out a crumbled piece of paper from his back pocket that had IOU written in large bold letters.

Curtis wiped more tears. “I was only borrowing it. During the middle of the month, I usually have enough to pay back any loans I get because I get a bonus at work for best sales. Please don’t make me lose that job. No one else will take a chance on giving a decent job to a teenager. I can work something out with you guys if you let me go.”

God’s and Day’s heads both jerked up at hearing those words.

“I can do community service or some volunteer work at a shelter. I’ll go back in and apologize to the clerk, and I’ll do any type of work he needs done in the store. I’m pretty good with basic maintenance stuff.”

Oh thank you, Lord. For a split second God thought the kid was offering something else.

Curtis’s blue pleading eyes were zipping between them.

Day reached out his hand asking God for the kid’s wallet and pulled his cell phone out of his coat pocket.

God knew what he was doing. Because he knew the sensitive man that was his partner.

Day dialed the three numbers for the information operator. “I need the number for the power company.”

He’s too fucking generous for words.

God drove Curtis home and pulled into the narrow driveway. It was a small house with tan siding and blue shutters. While there were no flowers or landscaping, the yard still looked neatly maintained. He could immediately tell the boy really took care of his home. He didn’t bother to ask where the father was, because if he was around, he wouldn’t have his son robbing stores to get their lights back on.

After Day called and gave the power company the boy’s address and paid the bill—which was one hundred and five dollars—he told the power company to call him if it was ever scheduled for disconnection again.

Curtis thanked them so many times, God almost wanted to tell him to shut up.

“The power should be back on in an hour.” Day pulled out his card and scribbled his cell phone number on the back. “Call me if you have any other problems.”

Curtis just nodded in agreement. His tears had left streaks on his flushed cheeks.

Day grabbed the boy by his collar and damn near pulled him into the front seat. “No more crime. Got it?”

Curtis looked ashamed but he eagerly responded. “Yes, sir. Yes, sir. I swear. Oh, my gosh. Thank you so—”

“If you say thank you again, I’m going to pop you in your lip.” Day cut the boy off.

“Oh, sorry.” He blushed. “Man, I’ve never seen cops like you guys.”

“And you never will,” God rumbled in his deep voice, his harsh cough cutting off what he was going to say next.

“You know, Detective Godfrey, you should really get that cough checked out. It doesn’t sound good at all. I do a lot of medical online searc—”

“Curtis, get out. Go inside and take care of your mom.” God cut him off.

Day snorted. “It’s useless, kid.”

Curtis smiled and climbed down from the truck.

“Curtis.”

“Yes, Detective Day?”

“Stay out of that little store. The owner thinks we arrested you and took you to jail. He doesn’t need to know we didn’t.”

“Yes, sir.”

God and Day watched the young man jog up his driveway and go inside before pulling away. Neither one of them commented on what Day had done. He knew his partner had a soft spot for kids… especially the ones he saw good in. Curtis was definitely a good kid; he’d just been dealt a bad hand. He knew that feeling.

God popped in another cough drop and drove the few miles to Day’s home. He pulled into the paved driveway and put his truck in park.

“You wanna stay to watch the game tonight?” Day turned to ask God before sliding from the big truck. He looked at all the leaves that had blown around his lawn and figured he could probably convince the big guy to rake them up while he grilled them dinner.

“Nah, I gotta go by my mom’s and get some work done while her and Gen are both working,” He responded. He stretched his large frame out in the spacious cab. His leather coat was thrown in the back and his biceps flexed against the white-knuckle grip he had on his steering wheel. Day cocked his head to the side at the unconscious movement. Something’s not right.

“Why do you go over when she’s not there? Don’t you want her—”

“Don’t go there, Leo. Just let me handle my business. Maybe I’ll have time to come by later. Alright?” God cut him off.

“Sure.” Day looked unsure and lowered his eyes to the ground.

“Stop looking like that.”

“Like what?” Day stared at him.

“Like I just tried to fuck you without lube. You know what look I’m talking about. I said I’ll try, okay?” God’s mouth quirked up on one side, making Day surrender as always.

“Fuck off.”

Day watched as God easily maneuvered the big vehicle back out onto the street and took off like a bat out of hell.

It’s been four years, partner… what the hell aren’t you telling me? Day thought as he strolled into his home.

He immediately removed his holster and weapons. He readied one handgun and put it underneath one of the couch cushions and tucked the other in the back of his jeans. He went to his very clean kitchen and took out two T-bone steaks, just in case God did come back.