"Shit, shit, shit" Deborah moaned as she looked over at her alarm clock betraying her. LaGuerta was gonna be on her ass like cheese on a panini when she got in. She slid her hand through her messy hair, got a quick shower and headed out the door. Her stomach was rumbling along with the ignition, but she couldn't give a crap. She tensed herself ready for the verbal ass whipping her superior was going to give her publicly, she could hardly wait.
Neither could he. He'd clocked her walking down the street. Plain Jane without a name. But he was determined to find out. Pretty, she kept her looks hidden under drab clothes and no make up. Those types were never his type, but now they were. He gently leaned forward to try to get her number-plate, but he got disturbed. He quietly silenced his passenger, by the time he'd wiped the potato chips off his new designer jeans Jane was a ghost.
"LaGuerta wants us to case the area, do interviews" "Sure" Deborah answered with Pen in hand. Angel drove them into the city, but as soon as they stopped to get out, Deborah was already at the hot dog stand. "Morgan, come on" Angel pleaded, his new aerosol failing to work, the sweat causing a stench under his arms. Deborah motioned towards the house. "You go, I'll be quick before I die of a fucking famine" Angel left but she wasn't alone.
He didn't want to do it, but he gave him no choice. Stepping out of the car with a coffee no less. It was pathetic, but he briskly walked down the street, to the hot-dog stand to the girl, this stranger that he had to piss off. As he approached he charged full speed ahead brushing past her shoulder. He could see her wince, that ripple of anger infect her face and make her cheeks flush, the coffee "tilted" and the girl stepped back.
"Watch it, you piece of shit" Said Deborah, "Fuck you" The guy said harshly, and she couldn't believe it. Yeah most fuck ups were her fault, she could admit to that, but not this one. She deserved an apology, but figured she wasn't going to get one when a smile crept across his lips. She'd make this dozy fucker pay, but not today. She used the hot-dog serviette to wipe herself only getting messier in the process, until she heard a voice, that wasn't Angel's.
"Mickey, what the fuck did you do?" He asked, feeling the knot in his stomach as he realised it was all coming together. "This dumb bitch..." Mickey began, staring at this girl smearing ketchup on herself. "You dick, apologise Mickey, he always does this when he's in a shitty mood" He said, looking at her with generous eyes with no genuine feeling in them."I'll say it for you asscrack, I'm sorry, we're sorry"
Deborah looked at him, wondering if he meant it, but didn't have time as she got called by Angel. "He will be" She smirked as she quickly left unable to forget this apology from a complete stranger who happened to be annoyingly cute. She pushed it to the back of her mind and did her job, but for the first time in a long time, it was difficult to focus on perps. Maybe she'd see him again, maybe she wouldn', but she knew she'd have a sleepless night that night.
Mickey clocked Angel's badge around his neck and wasn't happy. Rickie had set him up, to fuck with a cop. That was all he needed. The guys at bar called him the Rick dick drip and he told them to go and fuck themselves, but deep down he knew they were right. Mickey was known for his big mouth, that matched his stomach. Always loyal, he never answered Rickie back, until now. "A cop, that piece of ass is cop? Did you know?" He asked.
Rickie walked back to the car. Knowing that Micky would follow him he got in. "I didn't" He answered. "Are you sure about this?" "Mick, my boy, I always am" Rickie replied. "Now go back out there and pick up that coffee you dropped, I don't want ya tasered for littering" Mickey did as he was told as Rickie tapped the dashboard. He kept the image of the girl in his mind. She was slightly different from the picture in his drawer. He'd done it. He'd finally found her.