It's been a challenging week at work and I needed to blow off some steam. All characters belong to Janet, I'm just borrowing them for entertainment.
Storming into my apartment I kicked the door closed, threw my messenger bag on the couch, and marched into the kitchen. I was a woman on a mission. I needed a beer, tequila would have been preferable, but I knew I had beer in the fridge and that would have to suffice.
I was pissed beyond words and paced back and forth in the tiny space, hoping the movement would burn off some of the fury throbbing through my veins. In reality I just wanted to be close to the fridge so I could grab another beer as soon as I downed this one.
I should have confronted him. I should have torn him a new one on the spot. But I was paralysed with disbelief. How could he? I was embarrassed, hurt, and angry, and simply had to get out of there as soon as possible. I know he saw me, at first he didn't realise I had walked in, but he was alerted to my presence by the deafening silence when everyone realised what I had overheard. I couldn't believe he had been treating me as some form of entertainment. They were laughing over my mishap earlier in the day and when I realised that I was the object of their humour I all but ran out of the building.
Anger flared again and I battled the urge to hurl the now empty bottle against the wall. As satisfying as the sound of shattering glass may feel, the thought of cleaning up the mess helped check my actions.
I tossed the empty bottle into the sink and grabbed another, chugging almost half in one go. Leaning back against the kitchen counter I rolled the cold glass against my face, hoping to cool my skin as well as my temper. I was done with being other people's entertainment.
My blood pressure was just receding to somewhere near the range of normal when I heard the lock tumble on my door. Surely he wouldn't be so stupid to try and talk to me now?
Yeah, it appears he is.
"Cupcake, you need to hear me out. You need to let me explain."
"Explain what Joe? That you're the one who has been running the book at the station this whole time? That you're the reason money seems to change hands whenever I'm at the station or a car blows up?"
"Cupcake stop being so dramatic. It's just a bit of fun. It's not hurting anyone."
"Not hurting anyone? You fucking asshole. I can't believe you have so little regard for me. At least I don't have to second guess our relationship any more. Now get out."
Joe took a step towards me, hands up in a gesture of calm and appeasement. "Cupcake. I'm sorry, I didn't think. Just calm down and lets grab a drink and talk."
I slammed my drink on the counter and reached for my cookie jar. Joe did a double take as I drew out my gun and aimed it at him.
"Calm down? I don't think so Morelli. We're done talking. For good. Now get out." He hesitated as though to continue arguing but wisely realised I was not joking. "Take my key off your key chain, and leave in on the hall table on your way out. I'll be reporting your activities to Chief Juniak, and if you ever come here again I'll put a cap in your ass."
I never took my eyes off him as he edged backwards towards the door in disbelief, careful not to turn his back on me. Even after he had followed my instructions and closed the door behind him, I stood for several minutes with the gun aimed at the door. I truly think if he had come back through it I may have shot him. I'd been trying for years to find out who was running the books on me at the PD to no avail. Now I know why.
And to think my mother wanted me to marry this asshole.
TBC
