PSOH 'RIVAL' #1/10

"Richard!"

The battered metal office door slammed against the plaster, revealing a somnolent detective, head down on his desk.

"Huh?"

Leon opened his eyes to reveal the usual stained green blotter and the brand-new Styrofoam cup of java that abruptly appeared before him. He raised his head, ever so slowly, so that it wouldn't fall off, sliding a hand across the dribble of drool that slipped down his chin.

"His name is Richard but he said I can call him 'Rick'! Oh my god, he is so hot!"

His partner's face was flushed a lovely rose and she was nearly panting with excitement. A nice look, Leon thought, but not much to the point at seven o'clock in the fucking morning. He needed more coffee to start up his brain before he could appreciate it. He needed some aspirin and maybe four more hours of sleep, too. He needed to get laid, something fierce. He made an effort, though, and roused himself enough to ask:

"What'ya talking about? Who's this Richard?"

Fumbling, he found the cup and raised it to his lips, sipping it gratefully, closing his bloodshot eyes as the caffeine worked its way down his tanned throat and into his dehydrated system.

Jill jiggled, impatiently, flipping back her hair. She smoothed down her lacy sundress with prettily painted nails, flushing darker with a tinge of quick temper at Leon's disheveled impassiveness.

"What'd'ya mean, 'what do I mean'?" she shot back. "Weren't you supposed to be at the Staff meeting, Leon? He's the new guy; you know, the one from San Fran, who's supposed to be helping us out? Come on, you've actually met him already. Remember, last week?"

Leon blinked slowly. Seven o'clock in the morning was too early for 'remembering', damn it. But it was there, in the way far back of his foggy brain; a feeble little tendril of recognition, waving.

"Oh…yeah, yeah, now that you mention it, sure," he replied, though he was nowhere near that confident he really did recall. But anything to make his partner stop with the loud voice. "So…his name's Richard? Does he have a last name?"

The look of pretty excitement returned in full force. His partner was very definitely charmed, judging by the girly way she was twirling a lock of hair and digging a polished toe into the gross tan industrial carpet.

"Despard! French, Leon! He's half-French! He's blond and he's got the most gorgeous blue eyes and he's so sweet, Leon! He's got manners, too! He-he opened the door for me, Leon! The door!"

Jill was definitely on a roll about this new guy, even a bleary Leon could see that. He sipped his Dunkin' Donuts and eyed her carefully, not sure which way she'd jump. Whatever way it was, he wasn't really up to ducking and rolling. Not right now and maybe never, with the way his head felt, all done up in cottonwool.

"O…kay. Maybe you ought'a sit down or something, Jill. You're a little weird right now."

Wrong way. His partner's spine went ramrod straight and she stamped her kitten heel with a little huff of impatience. Leon could almost see the steam rising from her ears as she fully registered his remark.

"What? Weird?" she shrieked. "What's weird about appreciating a hot guy, Leon? In case you haven't noticed, there are no hot guys in Homicide!"

"Now that's not true, Jill – you've got me, don't'cha?"

Wrong way, again, and no U-turns. Ever one to make matters worse, Leon couldn't not stand up and be counted in the ranks of 'hot guys in Homicide'. Plenty of people had told him he was good-looking, after all.

"Pffft! Like you count, Leon!" Jill scoffed. She leaned back against the wall and folded her hands over her generous breasts. "Just look at you – I bet you didn't even take a shower this morning! And those are yesterday's clothes you're wearing! You have no sense of style, Leon – not like Richard," she pointed out bitchily, a reverent tone in her voice when she purred this new guy's name.

Leon concluded this Richard had to be hot shit. Not that he cared.

"I bet you don't even know what a suit is, unless it's that grey pinstripe unit you bought for Alejandro's wedding," Jill was still bitching. "How long ago was that now? Five years?"

That jerked Leon's chain right tight. He sat up, clutching his half-empty cup, and glared at the female half of his working life.

"Hey! It's older than that! I bought it for Academy graduation, alright? Paid a lot of money for it, too! Nothing wrong with that suit, Jill; it's got plenty of years in it! The guy said it would last forever—"

"That's not the point, doofus!" Jill pointed a finger at him for emphasis. "The point is that it's older than goddamned dirt! You look like some freak from the 'seventies, Leon!"

"I do not!" Leon would've stood up to this insult if his head didn't still hurt. His stomach was wonky, too. Rough night, last night.

"Huh! Well, the point is, Leon, you've finally got some competition! I think I'll take Rick down to Count D's Shop and introduce him right now!"

"You will not!" Leon roared, sloshing his coffee. He stood right up, hardly wobbling, and shouted at Jill. "He's my witness, damn it! You'd better leave him alone!"

"So? You own him? I don't think so, Orcot," Jill smirked, one hand on the doorknob. She smiled and it was purely evil. "Try and stop me, then, asshole. I'm sure D will enjoy meeting a handsome, fashionable, intelligent detective – for once!"

TBC….