Marcus
“HELLOOO? EARTH TO Marcus,” Sean, my brother, says over the phone.
“Sorry, man. What were you saying?” I put my car in drive and pull out of the parking lot.
“I was talking about the game this weekend. Dude, where has your head been at lately?”
“Nowhere. I’m about to start my shift, so I’m just thinking about work.” Lies. She’s all I’ve been thinking about which is odd for me. How can a person leave such an impression in such a short amount of time that they consume every thought?
Because you don’t believe her, that’s why. I can’t put my finger on it, but there was something about the way she looked at me when I mentioned the ring on her finger. It was as if she was battling with herself, but I don’t know what that battle was. She was either having a hard time telling me the truth that she is, in fact, married, or fighting to spit out the lie. My need to know keeps all thoughts locked on her, and I can’t shake it. “Bullshit. It’s that girl still, isn’t it?”
“Pssh, no,” I say defensively.
“It’s been a month since you’ve seen her. Plus, she’s married, remember?”
That’s my only hang up with her. She’s taken, and I would never go after another man’s girl, but damn if I don’t want to try. “I know. It’s not her, so get off my back about it.”
“Sure, it’s not,” he replies. “I totally struck out with her friend Paige. I don’t know what happened.” He actually seems shocked and maybe even a little offended.
“What? You finally met a girl who didn’t fall for your charming ways?” I joke.
“Real funny. At least I wasn’t hitting on a married woman.”
He’s got a point there. “Look, I gotta go. I’ll talk to you later.” I hang up and set my phone in the seat next to me.
It’s the end of the month which means the city needs to up its revenues. So here I am, on my way to a good hiding spot to write some tickets. It’s not the best part of being a cop, and I could definitely do without everyone’s shitty attitudes when I pull them over, but I’m low man on the totem pole. With just three years on the force, I’m lucky I’m not on the midnight shift anymore.
I’ve been out here for a little over an hour, and so far no one is going fast enough to warrant a stop. Five miles here. Seven miles there. That’s pushing it, but I let it slide. Maybe I park here too often and the locals are on to me.
As the thought to move crosses my head, a black car comes flying up over the hill. Looking at my radar gun, I clock them going eighty-one in a sixty-five.
Got one.
Flipping on my lights and sirens, I wait for another car to pass before pulling into traffic and accelerating to catch the driver. I pull up close behind the vehicle and follow until it veers off to the side of the road.
Running the plates, I see it’s registered to a Robert Kelley, but nothing suspicious pops up. I approach the black car with my hand near my side arm. You never know who you’re walking up on and I’ve seen regular traffic stops turn ugly real fucking quick. You always have to be ready for the unexpected.
“Good afternoon. Do you know why—” My words die off when I get a look into her window.
Lydia.
I can’t see her eyes behind her sunglasses, but if the way her eyebrows shoot up her forehead is any indication, I’d say she’s just as surprised to see me as I am her.
My arms cross over my chest, and I can’t stop the grin that pulls at my lips. “What a coincidence,” I say. “How have you been?”
“I was doing fine until about a minute ago,” she deadpans.
“What’s the rush? I got you going sixteen over the speed limit.”
“Would you believe me if I said I had to pee really bad?” She bites her lip and waits for my reply, but I can’t take my eyes off her mouth.
Realizing we’re on the side of the road with traffic zipping by, I snap out of my trance. “Uh, no.”
“Heard that one before, huh?”
“Maybe a time or two,” I reply.
The corner of her mouth twitches like she’s trying to hold back a smile. It reminds me of the night I met her. She was so fun and outgoing and . . . sexy.
A bucket of ice water is dumped on those memories as I remember the way that circular piece of metal felt when I touched it as I was holding her hand. It scorched my skin, letting me know she was off limits no matter how damn bad I wanted her.
With that thought, my eyes move over toward her hands that are gripping the steering wheel. My eyebrows rise up my forehead as I stare at her naked ring finger. Lydia follows my line of sight and nearly jumps when she realizes her mistake. She quickly conceals her hands by crossing her arms over her chest.
“Let me take you out for a cup of coffee.” I blurt the words out before I can talk myself out of it. I mean, friends get coffee, right?
Yeah, keep telling yourself that, buddy.
“You know I’m married,” she says quietly.
“Where’s your ring then?”
“I, uh—it’s um—at the, uh, jeweler’s getting fixed.”
I have a pretty good bullshit meter, and her excuse is off the damn charts. “The jeweler’s . . . right,” I say with a nod. “That wouldn’t be some lame story to shut me down, would it?”
“What?” Her voice rises in shock that I would question the validity of her relationship status. “No! I really am married and my ring really is getting worked on.”
“Okay, I just need your license, registration, and proof of insurance, please.” After a few seconds, she hands over everything. Lydia Kelley is the name on her ID. Robert must be her husband. An unwelcomed wave of disappointment hits me. Maybe she is telling the truth. I’m not sure why I feel this way. I only met the girl one night, and she’s clearly trying to get rid of me, but I can’t get her out of my damn head. “Alright, well hang tight for just a second and I’ll get you out of here.” I tap the roof of her car with the palm of my hand a couple times before walking back to my cruiser.
After a couple of minutes, I return to Lydia. “Well, since I can’t take you out, I guess this is the next best thing.” I hand over her printed copy as well as all her documents she gave me a minute ago.
She’s quiet, but I’m sure that won’t last long. Her mouth drops open before she says, “You’re giving me a ticket?!”
“Yep.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me right now! Is this because I won’t go out with you?” She throws her ticket onto the passenger seat.
“Nope. You were getting the ticket either way.”
“You’re an asshole,” she mutters to herself, but I heard it loud and clear.
“And you were speeding, so it’s a date. I’ll see you on the twenty-fourth.”
“Date? You’re delusional, and I’ll just pay the ticket,” she says with an attitude.
“By North Carolina law, fifteen miles per hour or higher over the speed limit is an automatic court day. You can’t pay your way out of it. So, like I said, I’ll see you on the twenty-fourth, Lydia.” I smile before leaving her again. I can hear her complaining and cussing, and I don’t know why, but it makes me chuckle.
She probably thinks I’m a dick, but what are the odds I’d run into her again? This isn’t exactly a small city, so this was the only way I could ensure I’d see her again.
I should back off. I know that. Call it a hunch, but something about the whole situation feels off. Her explanation was a little too convenient, and it took her way too long to spit it out. Either way, I’m going to pursue this until I get to the bottom of this, and if she really is married, then maybe I can move on and forget about her.