RISEN
Finishing my workout with a nice light jog around the park, I sneak into the coffee shop to grab my latte. It’s the only cheat I allow. I don’t do sweets, chips, fried foods or sodas, but a steaming hot vanilla latte is my fucking kryptonite. The lineup at the coffee bar was extra deep so I only have twenty minutes to get my ass prepped and into the meeting with a smile on my face, even if I feel like quitting and running for the hills.
Making my way to morning roll call, it’s the same shit over and over. Every day I get in, I listen to the same people get the cushy assignments, or the nice patrol partners in a sweet district, but it’s never me. I’ve pissed off both the Chief and Captain Scott so many times, I don’t get anything easy. Today won’t be any different.
“Hey, bruiser,” Tiana says as I pass the front desk. Swiping my keycard across the metal plate to our patrolman area, I wave a weak greeting. T doesn’t normally run dispatch in the mornings. Sitting at the communal desk where every transient policeman, worried parent, probationary officer and truant scout sign in to get what they need from our precinct, Tiana is shouting for them to quiet. Mornings here are hectic, and usually needing extra hands, to say the least.
“Risen?” she asks questioningly. I pause, smiling in that head nod guy kind of way, then walk on, toward the lockers.
The first person I see is the last I care to. What a fucking asshole. Jackson Riggs, the pompous, type A fucktard that has everyone fooled except me, grins in a sick sort of way. He doesn’t fool me. I’ve seen that fucker out on the town and I’ve heard his stories of conquest, all of which are things that turn my stomach. He’s considered a “good cop.” Two commendations in the field somehow outweighed the indecent exposure, as well as a rape charge that miraculously got dropped after the lady disappeared before the arraignment. He’s the guy that hides behind his badge, using the system to circumvent the rights we’re afforded as upstanding lawmen.
“Mason,” he clips off tightly.
“Riggs.” I smart back, wanting to punch him in the jaw.
The locker room is full of guys in varying stages of dress. Some are coming off patrol, or going out to the bullpen to work their detective positions. Some have towels wrapped around their waists, of which barely hide their paunch guts and minuscule cocks, which is more than I wanted to see, like, ever. There’s more of those guys, the Riggs assholes, than the nice guys. There’s no care in their work as they’re all weak, lazy fuckers.
Then there are guys like my best friend, Trevor. He’s a joker by heart, with nothing more than a few broken rocks in his head. A side effect of way too many hits over the years as a defensive lineman in college. I trust him, which is something I can’t say for many of them.
“How was the run?”
“It cleared the cobwebs,” I say, opening the lock on my cabinet.
“Sex clears it better, man. You should try that sometime instead. Way more fun than rubbing it out yourself.”
Fuck, don’t I know it. Nothing seems to work out the kinks.
“You should’ve seen the girls I had last night, near fucking perfect.” Yanking off the towel, holding his dick away and out of my view, Trevor mock tortures the fucking thing.
“Dude! Locker room, not brothel. Put that shit away.” Laughing, I pull my holster and cuffs out. Snapping on my shirt before I link my walkie at the shoulder, I’m ready for another boring patrol day. Arresting China Crown has been the highlight of my year.
“Like I need a visual of what you do with your cock, you fucker. You’ll scare the women in here with that garden snake.”
“Not somethin’ most of ’em haven’t already seen. Plus, it’s all boa.” He pulls the lock on his cupboard, clothing free, and continues to wander around naked. “I got nothin’ on your motherfuckin’ anaconda. You need to let that snake roam free, buddy. With a woman, of course.”
“Yeah, don’t you worry about my anaconda. I just don’t show mine off like a new tattoo quite as often as you.”
Leaning into his locker, Trev grabs his clothes, sans boxers—which should scare his partner for the day—and heads to the shower. “I’ll be out in ten. Hold up for me. We’ll go in for the shitshow together. Yeah?”
“Yeah, I’ll wait for your sorry ass.” Moving out of the room, away from his naked stupid hick ass, I call out over my shoulder, “Dress before you come out, fucker! I’ll be out front with T.”
Before I even hit the bullpen, I can hear T’s derisive voice from the hallway. “Listen up, people.” She’s giving someone the gears. The desk is slightly raised, giving her a commanding position to speak from, which T uses it to her advantage.
“You,” she points to a burly, heavyset man on the left, “are not getting past me to harass our policemen about loud music being played at night. You live beside a bar.” Pointing next to a slight lady in perfectly pressed attire, she says, “You, are not getting out of the ticket. No texting and driving. That’s why your car has a ding.”
“Now you, sir. I can help you. Please, follow me.” She motions gently, and super sweetly to a frail elderly man wearing only a gray housecoat and a single, dirty, fuzzy bunny slipper. Stepping down, she moves toward him kindly. “We were able to get you a table by the window, just like you asked. If you’ll follow me.”
Being that we’re two doors down from a long-term care facility, we end up with a great deal of Alzheimer patients here. Someone had a brilliant idea that if the bricks on the side, closest to their building were painted to look like an old-style bistro, then they might come in looking for a table instead of getting lost all over town. It’s worked like a charm. Less and less elderly have gone missing from the home.
She leads him around the corner toward the seating area, where there’s a little chair, a table with a white lace cover, and a fake, single pink rose. It’s a closed in area where we can keep an eye on them until the attendants swing out to lead them back safely. It’s much nicer than a holding cell that would only confuse them more.
As I watch the interaction, a heavy hand lands on my shoulder. Shocking me out of my thoughts as I watch things unfold, Trev asks, “Hey, man, you ready?”
“Yeah, good. Let’s get in.”