The city streets were like a maze of one-way roads, construction, and traffic jams, but I tried to navigate them as best I could. My partner, Gary Unwin, was aggressively unhelpful, making surly remarks every time I asked him for directions, mumbling about whether I’ve ever driven a car before.
Working hard to make a good impression, I kept my mouth firmly shut. However, in my head, I was explaining to him all the ways driving in a big city is not anything like driving in a small town. It was basically like learning how to drive all over again. It was so different that I almost wondered whether I needed to go retake my driver’s test.
The last department I worked at sat on a main street that was less than a mile long, and I could drive from one side of town to the other in ten minutes. There was one street light in the entire town, and it flashed yellow constantly.
“I turn here, right?” I asked, gesturing to the light ahead of me, my blinker already on.
“One-way road. Next street is your turn,” he said without looking up.
I flipped the blinker off and nodded, trying to take mental images of my surroundings and memorize the landmarks to help me navigate the route better the next time. I didn’t want to endure another trip of constantly needing to ask Gary questions.
“Lots of one-way roads,” I said. “And traffic.”
“Yep,” Gary said flippantly, looking at a small black notebook and then tucking it into the inside pocket of his blazer.
I silently chastised myself. I may as well have tried talking to him about the weather. Of course, there was a lot of traffic. Gary already knew that. He’d grown up in the city, had driven here his entire life, and he knew the route we were taking very well. He’d explained to me in as few words as possible that it was his daily rotation and had been for many years now.
At my last job, the entire town had been in my rotation. I drove the streets a few times per day to keep an eye out for the rare speeder or any bad brake lights. When we did get a call, it was almost always for a medical emergency, in which case the officers would arrive to ensure there was no foul play, and there never was.
In the city, however, there was way too much area for any one cop to cover it on their own. Every team had a route, and Gary wanted me to memorize ours, though he had a very hands-off teaching method.
In all honesty, I’d almost turned down the big city detective job. It had always been my dream to work actual cases, to solve crimes that would get criminals off the streets, improve people’s lives. And the fact was, cases like that didn’t exist in the small towns. However, I felt rather uncomfortable with the promotion. Because it was quite the promotion.
Before becoming a detective and being paired up with Gary, I’d only been a cop for two years—hardly enough time to call myself anything more than an amateur. So, it was a complete mystery to me how I’d even managed to score the job. Apparently, my new sergeant—Sergeant Hale—said I’d come highly recommended, but there had to have been more experienced officers than me who had applied, I was sure.
Like always, I tried not to listen to the rumors, but this time they were rather hard to ignore. Everyone assumed it was because of my appearance. A police station is definitely a male-dominated environment, so any female detectives draw a fair amount of attention, but I’d always seemed to draw a bit more.
And as much as I hate to sound cocky, I knew it was because of my looks. I was petite, yet curvy, and perhaps I wore my jeans a little too tight. However, I liked to believe my work spoke for itself. That, despite my appearance, I was recommended and accepted for the position because of my passion for the work and my drive.
“Pull over here,” Gary barked out suddenly, surprising me and causing me to swerve slightly into the lane of oncoming traffic. “Be careful, Grasso,” he added, using my last name like an insult.
I wanted to tell him that he ought to be careful about shouting at people while they are driving in congested traffic, but I stayed silent and pulled over in front of the laundromat he’d pointed out.
“You have some dry cleaning to pick up?” I joked.
Gary narrowed his eyes at me. “Just stay in the car.” He slammed the car door behind him and disappeared inside the shop.
The East Side of town had a pretty rough and tumble reputation, and I knew for a fact Gary lived on the West Side so I couldn’t begin to imagine what he was doing inside at an East Side laundromat. However, before I had much time to think about it, Gary was sliding back into the car, gesturing with his finger for me to keep going.
“What was that about?” I asked, trying to disguise my deep curiosity.
“Just a check in,” Gary said.
I waited, but he didn’t offer any further clarification, and I didn’t want to bother him with more questions he probably wouldn’t answer. As much as I already disliked Gary, I still wanted him to like me. I wanted us to work together. I had a vision of him being the grumpy veteran detective and me his young ingénue.
Eventually—hopefully—I’d find his surliness endearing, and he’d come to reluctantly love my inquisitiveness and cheerfulness. We’d be like two cops from a sitcom, balancing each other out in every way. It would just take some time to get there, and I was willing to be patient. Or, at least, I hoped I was.
A few blocks later Gary ordered me to pull over again. This time I was prepared for it, and I casually cut off a car in the next lane to park alongside the curb. If I’d been in anything other than a police car, they probably would have honked and sworn at me, but being the law had its perks, especially in the city.
This time, Gary said nothing as he exited the car and walked into a diner with neon lights in the front that promised coffee, toast, and eggs. I could see him through the steamy windows, the heat inside hitting the cold glass and giving the rundown place a slightly romantic look. Gary moved to the counter and began talking to a man with greased back hair and a stained apron, and I wondered whether Gary was ordering coffee, and if so, would he order one for me?
Just as I began to think Gary was more thoughtful than he seemed, the man behind the counter took a step back, his hands in the air as if to surrender. Gary pounded his fist angrily on the counter, drawing nervous looks from the few patrons inside the diner. He then took a noticeably large breath, pointed a finger at the man’s chest, his face turning red, and said something that left the man rapidly nodding his head before he turned and left.
When he got back in the car, he was breathing heavily but said nothing.
“Just checking in on things?” I asked, repeating his words from before, hoping Gary caught on to my ever so slight sarcasm. It was clear, even from the outside looking in, that something serious had gone on inside the diner. He had to know I’d seen everything.
He grunted but said nothing.
“Looked pretty heated in there,” I said. “I was worried you’d need backup.”
“I don’t need any backup.”
I sighed but said nothing. I was beginning to feel more like Gary’s chauffeur than his partner. He expected me to drive him around and ask zero questions. That wasn’t how the partner relationship was meant to operate. We needed to trust one another, rely on one another. I needed to know what he was up to and, once I got up to something, I’d let him know about it. It was a give and take. Plus, every cop needed backup. That’s why we worked in pairs.
“Pull over here,” Gary said.
It went on like this for nearly an hour. Gary stopping me once every ten or fifteen minutes so that he could get out and walk into some grimy looking business—a barbershop, a pizzeria, an adult video store. Finally, I pulled up in front of a cigar shop, the windows greased over with dirt and grime, the sidewalks out front cracked and uneven. Gary opened his door as I turned the motor off.
“What are you doing?” he asked, the four words being more than he’d said to me in the last hour.
“I want to come inside. I want to check in on things, too,” I replied, opening my door.
Gary grabbed my arm, his fingers wrapped tightly around my forearm. “This doesn’t concern you. Stay in the car.”
“I’m your partner, not your dog,” I snapped, wrenching my arm out of his grip. “If this is police business, then it concerns me. You’ve been leaving me behind all day, and I didn’t start working here to be the Hoke to your Miss Daisy.”
“What?” he asked, his forehead creased in confusion, momentarily forgetting his anger.
“Hoke. You know? The driver in Driving Miss Daisy. Morgan Freeman played him in the movie.”
“Never seen it.”
“Well, you should,” I said, my voice still annoyed despite the slight tangent in the discussion. “It’s a great film. But regardless, I’m not here to drive you around. I’m here to help you.”
Gary sighed, running a hand through his thinning hair. “Fine.”
We both got out of the car, and I tried to hide my giddiness at finally being able to do something even remotely related to being a detective rather than a servant. As I was coming around the car, though, Gary met me at the front. He moved in close, and I took a step back, but he only followed, keeping the same impossibly close distance between us.
“You don’t talk while we’re in there. You say nothing. Do you got me?”
I felt my eyes go wide, but I couldn’t seem to bring them back to normal size, no matter how badly I tried. Gary had been rude and annoyed all day, but he hadn’t threatened me. Of course, this wasn’t a threat per se, but there was the hint of it in his voice. A hint of something sinister if I made a misstep.
“Do you got me?” he repeated, his hot breath washing over my face, making me feel sick.
I nodded fast. “Yes. Yes. I got you.”
“Good. Let’s go.”
And with that, we stepped onto the sidewalk and moved towards the crumbling brick building.
The shop was small, but cigars filled the shelves along the walls from floor to ceiling. Shelves rigged with strip lighting made it seem like we were in a cigar museum, each box of cigars a priceless work of art on display. The room smelled like freshly tilled earth and something deep, woodsy. I breathed it in, sighing slightly as I exhaled. It was a smell I associated with old men—grandpas and guys who fed birds in the park. Something about it was nostalgic, romantic, even.
It took me a moment to notice the man behind the counter. Old and squat, his shoulders were barely visible above the display case in front of him. He eyed Gary warily, his bushy gray eyebrows drawn down in worry. Then, he turned his attention to me, and I immediately felt exposed.
Though I was wearing black jeans and a tucked in black button up shirt, the man’s eyes made me feel naked. He roamed over my body slowly, drinking me in as if I were a free sample in a grocery store. I crossed my arms over my chest, and his mouth hiked up in a half smile. Luckily, Gary moved to block me from the man’s view, and he gestured to the back room. Immediately the man scurried for the door, darting behind a curtain.
I was going to thank Gary for sending the creep away, but I decided to stay quiet. Partly because Gary had made it clear that I was to remain perfectly silent, but also because I wasn’t certain Gary had sent the man away because of me. I wanted to believe Gary felt protective of me, but he could also have just been impatient with the man.
The curtain pulled back, and two men walked out. I gasped but tried to disguise it in a yawn. I recognized one of the men. Though I’d only been in the city a short while, any detective worth their badge knew who Joey Brancati was. He was the son and heir to the biggest local crime boss in the city.
The second man moved around the corner and brushed past me to stand near the door, as though he were keeping guard. The room felt thick with tension, and I didn’t understand why Gary would be meeting with the mafia.
“Who’s your friend?” Joey said, pointing towards me.
Gary turned around to look at me as though he forgot I was there. “Nobody,” he said. “Just my partner. Let’s talk business first.”
Joey nodded. “You have what I need?”
“Not yet, but I will.”
“These photographs are very important to me,” Joey said, sounding remarkably like the stereotypical mafia members I had seen in the movies.
“And to me, too. You’ll get them. Don’t worry.”
“Is that the only reason you came here? To give me an update?” Joey asked.
Gary nodded. “I didn’t want you getting nervous or sending anyone around my place.”
Sending someone around his place? I’d walked into the shop assuming Gary held the power, but he seemed to be reporting to Joey. I’d heard about dirty cops, especially in the big city, but I always assumed it was something small-town cops talked about to pass the time. A legend of sorts, or a statistic that had been blown wildly out of proportion. However, standing behind Gary, hearing, for the first time, his voice lower in respect—or fear—I had to wonder whether I hadn’t been partnered with a criminal.
“Are we not friends?” Joey asked, throwing his arms almost as wide as his smile. “Am I not allowed to drop by your house for a friendly chat? You hurt me, Gary. You cut me deep.”
“You know how it is,” Gary said, his words coming out fast, frantic. “We can’t draw any attention to our situation.”
Joey laughed but didn’t respond.
I turned slightly to catch sight of the man standing by the door. He was staring at me and smiled when he saw me looking. I looked away quickly and then felt silly for being so embarrassed. I was the police officer in the room. He should be the one looking away from me. It was clear he was working with the mafia. He should have been afraid of me.
“That all sounds good, Gary. We are good. For now,” Joey said, his eyebrows rising as he tacked on the last two words. Then, he looked around Gary to smile at me. “Now, Gary’s partner, do you have a name?”
Gary opened his mouth to speak, probably to stop me, but I stepped forward, hand extended. “I’m Detective Grasso. Anna Grasso.”
“Bond. James Bond,” Joey joked, reaching out to shake my hand.
I smiled, surprised by his jovial nature. I’d expected mafia members, especially members so high up the ladder, to be more serious. Though, I’d heard rumor of some of the things Joey had done. None of it was ever proven, of course, as was the nature of the mafia, but it was pretty heinous. I tried to imagine his smiling face as he shot men dead in their homes, as he ordered the killing of entire families due to a father’s debts. Suddenly, a chill worked its way down my spine, and his smile seemed less friendly and more sinister.
“She’s new,” Gary said, doing everything short of rolling his eyes at Joey, making his annoyance with me very clear. “Just arrived in the city last week.”
“How do you like it so far?” Joey asked. “The big city, I mean. I won’t bother asking how you like being partnered up with this guy. I’m sure that is miserable.”
I stifled a laugh. “I’m figuring it out. Driving here is a lot different, but I’m sure I’ll get the hang of it.”
Joey stared at me for a while, a smile spread on his unmoving face. “I’m sure you will,” he finally said.
“Well,” Gary said, turning to me, practically cutting off Joey. “We need to get going.”
He moved towards me and tapped my elbow as he passed, trying to hurry me out the door. He tossed a casual wave over his shoulder at Joey without turning around.
As we moved towards the door, it was the first time I’d gotten a good look at the man standing guard there. He wasn’t as tall as Joey, but he was just as muscular. Even through his long sleeve shirt, I was able to make out the corded muscles of his arms, the deep cuts beneath his pecs. His skin was lightly tanned, and despite his ties to the mafia, I couldn’t help thinking how handsome he was.
I turned my face as we neared him, trying to hide the blush I was positive had crept into my cheeks. Then, all of a sudden, Gary stopped, and I bumped into his back, stumbling backward.
The man had his hand in the center of Gary’s chest, his chin raised, face angled so he could look down at Gary.
“When exactly do you plan to visit next?” the man said. “With the photographs, not just an update?”
Gary matched his gaze, never looking away. “I’ll come back when I come back.”
The man’s eyes narrowed, and his thick lips flattened into a thin line as he moved even closer to Gary, their noses less than two inches apart. “Can you be more specific?”
I waited for Gary to push the man away, to tell him to back up. He had that kind of authority, after all. This man was technically assaulting a police officer, though only in the loosest sense of the term. Then I wondered why Joey, who seemed like the most level-headed of the group, wasn’t telling his lackey to back down.
I turned back towards the counter, hoping my doe eyes could convince him to take action but was met with the groping stare of the old man who had reclaimed his position at the counter. Joey had disappeared back behind the curtain.
“I’m afraid not,” Gary said, his voice almost a whisper.
“That’s too bad,” the man said, his hand reconnecting with Gary’s chest, shoving him back, only slightly.
“It is, isn’t it?” Gary responded, shoving the man back.
I knew whatever was happening wasn’t good, but I also couldn’t help but feel like it was all rather ridiculous. Boys being boys, basically. They were arguing, but neither of them was really saying anything. They were more just seeing which one would back down first.
Gary’s shove, though small, seemed to awaken the man, and he pushed back harder, apparently not used to being challenged. Immediately, before Gary could do anything he would regret, I jumped in front of him and pushed him back.
“Easy, boys,” I said, trying to sound tougher than I felt. “There’s no need for a scene.”
Gary shot me a warning look, but he took a step back and straightened his jacket. “Whatever problem you have, take it up with Joey. He didn’t seem too concerned about my timeline.”
With that, Gary brushed past the man and out the door.
Stunned, I hesitated for a few seconds, trying to wrap my head around what exactly was happening. For the few seconds I was in the shop alone, the man’s demeanor gradually shifted to an easy confidence. He licked his lips and winked at me. Quickly, I looked away and ran out the door after Gary.