Restless
Is she talking about owls? Rick had zoned out somewhere between drinks at the bar and the shared appetizer at the table. Why am I even here? He cleared his throat and doubled his focus-big mistake.
She looks like an owl with her big wide blank eyes that seem to scream-Whoo?! He chuckles.
"I know, it's hilarious," Jessie states with a hopeful, desperate smile.
"Jessie…I've had a real nice time, but I think it's about…what I mean to say is I'm not the right guy for you.
Quickly, she reaches over and covers his hand with hers rubbing her thumb across my knuckles. "Rick, you deserve to be happy and I know I'm the right girl for the job."
He slides his hand from under hers and reaches into his back pocket for his wallet retrieving a few bills. He placed them on the table and waves over their server. "See, that's the thing Jessie. I am not looking for happy. I want a love that brings me unspeakable joy."
She furrows her brow and squints at him, "I don't get the difference? Sounds like the same thing to me."
He smiles politely, "I know. Let me walk you to your car." She stands, turns and searches my face with confusion clouding her eyes. He's seen this look at the end of too many dates, happy hours, and wedding receptions; but he refuses to settle. Been there, done that with Lori. He tucks Jessie into her car and watches her drive away.
He was Mr. Kings' County High, solid grades, good athlete, well liked by students and staff and she was head cheerleader. Perfect on paper-Hallmark Channel happy. The problem with all that perceived happiness. He felt nothing but time passing.
Everyone in Kings' County knew how that story ended because every citizen, shop, event and organization perpetuated that narrative. The Pleasant Valley version of life was in the water, the very air we breathed-suffocating the possibility of something deeper, more authentic.
His problem, he loved the feeling of community in his hometown but the love he wanted, no deserved didn't exist with the county lines. Maybe Daryl was right and it was time to move on to some place bigger or different. Maybe I'm just too complicated," he mused.
Tired of the introspection and still restless he headed to the gun range. One hour of practice would settle him down. He pulled into his usual slot and grabbed his service weapon and holster from the lock box in the trunk of his Toyota Land cruiser.
As he approached the entrance he noticed the cars of the usual night time crowd: Eugene's, faded yellow Datsun; Gregory's, RAM 1500; and Dale's, black Cherokee. He paused when he noticed out of the corner of his left eye a matte silver and black Audi R8-now that was not a Kings' County car. Interesting.
"Hey Eugene."
"Sheriff Grimes. Not surprised to see you. No, expected you earlier. Here's your box."
"Thanks, have that I become that predictable?" Rick shook his head.
"Not at all, you have a routine. Routines are good, order is nice." Rick watched Eugene's ordered movements behind the counter then looked down at his well worn boots. How the hell did this become my life? He shook his thoughts free and headed toward the indoor shooting range.
Just as he rounded the corner Gregory's voice broke through his internal dialogue.
"Hey, I thought you were already here," he states with surprise.
"Nah, just got here."
"Hmm, I swore I heard that Colt of yours a few stalls down," Gregory smoothed the hair at the back of his head.
"Musta' been someone else," Rick shrugging the shoulder his holster laid against.
"Well, I'm off. Enjoy your night."
"See ya' around."
Rick stepped into the stall mindlessly attaching the target, strapping his holster around his waist and placing his Colt for loading on the small counter in front of him. Just as he pulled the ammunition from his belt he heard the sound he was all too familiar with as three shots rang out in succession followed by a groan of frustration.
His head snapped to the left. He secured his weapon as he took steady steps down the corridor to search for the shooter. What he saw stopped not just his feet but the air in his lungs.
His eyes put her together in pieces. First, the long, legs covered in black leather combat boots. Except these weren't ordinary boots. They had laces pulled tight and secured with a chrome buckle at the top of the boots just below the back of her knees.
His eyes land on her perfect black denim covered ass. No that is a weapon capable of dragging a man willingly down to his knees. He tore his gaze away and mapped the muscles of her back covered in a purple racer back tank. Strong broad shoulders that caused him to lick his lips; those beautiful brown shoulders deserved to be worshipped with thousands of gentle, soft kisses.
Get it together Grimes. Figure out something to say. With an exasperated sigh she removed her protective gear and placed her Colt down. "Can I help?" delivered in a husky tone filled with open ended possibilities.
She spins, swinging her locs over her shoulder, coating the air around them with the intoxicating scent of jasmine. Rick inhaled deeply desperately needing to breath normally again.
She braced herself against the counter with both hands behind her which only made his distraction worse. Focus on her, Rick do not give in to lust, do not even glance at those bouncy round breast.
Slowly he studied her full pillow soft lips, adorable cheeks and then lightening struck as his piercing blue eyes met her brown pools that seemed to have no end. Those eyes, my God…they reflected fierce determination, passion and something seemingly familiar just beyond his reach that he couldn't quite name.
She watched him with equal amounts of shock and awe her mouth slightly agape. Breath: in and out, Girl. He's just a man-just a man whose voice oozes sex; and is currently eye-fucking me-well. Closing her mouth and taking a full breath she pieces together a response, "Only if you're an expert. I've been going at this for awhile and something is just not right."
"Well, you're in luck," he states while patting his thigh and smiling ever so seductively.
Her eyes travel down his denim covered thigh and flip between his prominent bulge and the weapon that is an identical match to the one she was holding. This isn't happening-right?
"Oh, um, sure, if you have time…no, it's ok. I am sure you have better things to do on a Saturday night. I was restless and thought this might help settle me down," she stutters out.
Then it hits him. The missing piece reflected in her eyes he couldn't name-kindred spirit. He hears her still over explaining while adorably flustered.
"I followed all the recommendations. Feet shoulder length apart, locked elbows," she trails off as he steps deliberately toward her.
He commands, "Turn around and show me your stance." She nods slowly, replaces her goggles, takes a deep breath and returns to the previous position. Then she feels him. He is not just standing behind her. He is consuming ever inch of her and ever molecule of air in their shared space.
He places his right foot on the inside of her right foot and slides it over. Next, his smooth calloused hands circle her small waist to shift her hips just slightly to the left. He proceeds to slide his large hands up her torso onto her shoulders and presses down just a fraction of an inch. He continues on his path as his hands glide underneath and down her arms and gives each elbows a nudge locking them firmly in place.
He leans in, his mouth at her ear, "When I say fire I want you to squeeze the trigger. Do you understand? Don't pull-squeeze." She can't breathe or think. This man has taken complete control and she is surrendering to his authority. His lips never leave her ear. She nods once. "Ready, aim…fire (boom), fire (boom), fire (boom)."
Then there is only stillness as Rick flips the switch moving the target toward them while their panting breaths mingle together. She places the gun on the counter with trembling hands, taking in the feel of his hardened chest against her back and his firm dick against her ass.
He has unleashed an emotional tsunami within her that she knows will scramble the carefully constructed life she built. Slowly she looks up and over the target, three shots-center mast. She snatches the protective gear away and squeals with delight. She punches both arms triumphantly in the air. He takes a step back and watches her exuberant celebration.
Before he can fully process what is happening her arms are around his neck and she is thanking him profusely. He throws his head back and laughs full and deep. This is what he has waited for-joy. He brings his eyes back to hers and sees it-wonder, joy and connection. She can't, no-she won't look away or deny or deflect. She is grabbing hold with everything she's got: head, heart and soul.
With a brilliant smile, "I'm Michonne by the way."
"Rick."
"Well, Rick. I think we need to get to know each other better."
"I couldn't agree more."
A half hour later he walks her to her car. "How did you know which one belongs to me?"
"I know my town, my guns and my woman."
"Is that so?" she questions with a slight arch of her brow. Claiming me is brutish and bold and yet I don't even try to correct him.
"Absolutely, that Colt sends a message-Go Big or Go Home-and so does this engine," as he wraps on the hood of her car with two knuckles. "Am I wrong?"
She giggles, "Absolutely. When he showed me the rental choices I picked the Colt because it went with my boots. She lifts her left leg and taps the buckle. The car was as close to the Marvel Universe as I was ever going to get." Rick laughs holding his belly until it aches.
"What, shoes and comic books? That's what makes you tick." Life will not be boring with her.
"What can I say-I'm a wonder of contradictions," as she smiles up at him.
She hits the alarm on her keychain to unlock the door and he opens the door with a flourish of Southern gentlemen charm that releases a bushel of tender, feminine butterflies across her chest. He squats down as she slides into the driver's seat. "Be careful and text me so I know your home safe and tucked away." She nods and pulls her seat belt in place.
He stands and closes the door securely before jogging over to hop into his SUV. After he secures his weapon in the trunk there's a honk. Rick turns ever so slowly, Michonne pulls up, rolls down the window with the sound of Mary J. Blige pouring out of the speakers:
I can love you…I can love you better than she can…and blows him a sweet, tender kiss before speeding out of the parking lot. He is stunned silent. Hell, I can live the rest of the week off that image alone.
He cruises through the streets making his way home. Once inside he strips down tucks himself in with a series of pillow punches and comforter tugging. The phone on the night table signals a message. He reads her text and responds with a kissing emoji.
Rick greets Sunday morning with a grin on his face and Maroon 5's Sunday Morning playing in his head. He pulls up the song, hits repeat, places the phone in the docking station, and cranks up the volume. He opens the windows welcoming the sights and sounds of Georgia. The former drudgery that accompanies his weekend list of chores is gone.
He pulls the weeds and wonders what flowers Michonne would add. I bet she chooses vibrant colors. Rick power washing the deck and considers re-painting the chairs. I can hold her while we star gaze.
Across town Michonne is meeting the Girls for brunch. "Seriously, tell me again why we can't invoice this meal as a business expense," Maggie questions before placing a lemon custard croissant on her plate from Paul's Pastry Platter in the center of the table.
Rosita and Sasha respond in unison, "The alcohol." They laugh hysterically. Michonne approaches the table, pulls out her chair and plops down. "What I miss?"
"Nothing," Sasha responds before pausing. "What did we miss?" taking in Michonne's outfit.
Michonne is perusing the platter trying to make a selection. She doesn't even look up, "What do you mean?"
Sasha leans in, Rosita and Maggie shift to gaze at their boss. Sasha, Lead Investigator at the at the Kings' County District Attorney's Office, takes Michonne's inventory. "Silver clips on your locs, stacked bangle bracelets on your wrist, new lip gloss and that dress has 'your girls' up and reaching for the sun. Tell me I'm wrong?"
Rosita, Deputy in Training, chimes in, "No panty lines."
Maggie, top Paralegal, piles on, "Fragrance: Sarah Jessica Parker-Covet." They all stare at her expectantly.
"What?! I can't look nice to meet my Girls."
Maggie sounds off, "You always do, but this…what you got going on is dick related." They all raise their flutes of mimosas in agreement.
Michonne laughs but doesn't respond. She can feel their eyes as she waves over their usual hostess, Jessie. "Can I have a glass of what they ordered?"
"One mimosa coming up." When she turns back to the table still not responding they nod in unison. It's private.
Rosita who recently transferred from the Investigation Unit at the DA's Office to the Sheriff's Department changes the subject. "So, you ready for tomorrow Ms. Assistant District Attorney?"
"I am so excited. I never thought I would leave private practice but this change makes me feel like I have purpose. No more focus on billable hours. I actually have a chance to do some good."
They had been friends for years. Michonne and Sasha met in college. Maggie was Michonne's assistant in Atlanta until she convinced her she was too smart not to continue her education. When her father became ill and she moved back to Kings' County she completed a paralegal online program and climbed the ladder at the local DA office.
With some persuasive sweet talk she convinced Michonne to interview for the vacant ADA spot. Once Sasha learned she was coming to town she put in for a transfer from the state attorney's office. Rosita was the newest member of the group. She met them while assisting Sasha during her transition. Although she enjoyed investigation growing up a tomboy she missed the adrenaline of action. The Sheriff Department was the perfect balance. The conversation shifted to Rosita's training.
With the focus off her, Michonne let her mind wander to Rick. Would he come to brunch? Probably but at diner with country gravy or a short stack. We could compromise. We could get a waffle maker and spend lazy Sunday mornings on a porch. She chuckles and shakes her head.
She returns to the current conversation. Rosita continues to praise her training officer. "I'm telling you if I become half as good as Officer Grimes I will have a career to be proud of."
Sasha inquires, "I'm still learning names. Which one is he?"
"The brunette."
"That helps so much," her voice filled with sarcasm, "The brunette with the inappropriate mouth; or the bow-legged swagger?"
"Swagger."
My senses go on full alert. Every piece of skin he touched Saturday begins to tingle. Michonne sips her mimosa trying to cool down. As innocently as possible she re-joins the conversation. "Grimes, um Rick Grimes?"
Maggie responds by nodding as she finishes her croissant. The she leans forward whispering, "You know he was out with Jessie Basic over there last night and Lori, court reporter, former high school sweetheart. Classic Kings' County guy-looking for Susie Homemaker."
Sasha responds with a shout, "No! What a waste of all that dickaliousness. I met him at their inter-department meeting and he had them swooning and fangirling like you would not believe." Michonne's heart is beating double-dutch and she chokes on her dark chocolate croissant dusted with golden sugar. "Sorry, wrong pipe."
Rosita pushes the conversation further, "I know. Add all that Southern charm…yummy."
Michonne is reeling. Thank God she doesn't have to get up out of her chair. Rosita continues while waving Jessie over for a re-fill. "He doesn't even notice which makes his fan base really show their ass. Case in point," Jessie approaches the table with mimosa carafe in hand.
Michonne takes the opportunity to get a good look. In all fairness to the woman she is at work, in uniform; but she can't reconcile the blond ponytail and Bambi eyes with the testosterone beast she met at the gun range.
Rosita continues once Jessie exits, "To be honest I think there is more to Rick Grimes than meets the eye. He's got layers…what the word…" she trails off.
"Complex," Michonne provides.
"Exactly, we went on a call and the way he took in that crime scene and took apart the suspect during the interrogation with his eyes along was intense. He sees things other officers miss or don't notice." Maggie nods in understanding.
Sasha co-signs, "Yeah, some men are complicated- filled with contradictions." The entire table turns their gazes to her and asks in unison, "Would you like to share with the group?" She shakes her head, "It's private."
Michonne observes her former college roommate awkward posture and decides to give her an escape route. "Let the record reflect that the Tribunal reserves the right to cross examine the witness at a date yet to be determine." They giggle and Sasha breathes a sigh of relief.
The table is quiet. Maggie perks up, "Chonne, aren't you meeting him next week for expert witness prep?"
"Am I? Actually, I think I'm meeting with a bunch of officers. I'll check my schedule later this evening." Brunch is coming to a close. Despite the discussion she has faith in the connection with Rick. Nevertheless, as a grown ass woman a little extra couldn't hurt. "Who is down for some shoe shopping?"
Sasha calls out, "Check please!" as they descend into laughter.
Dusk descends on Kings' County and Rick's backyard comes to life. The hickory smoke from the grill fills the air as one guy after another strolls through the backyard gate. Daryl arrives early with enough fresh meat to feed an army. Shane drags in a full keg. Tyreese has a bag filled with Hennessy and Coke and a large Tupperware bowl of his mama's famous potato salad. Ms. Eva owns the most popular diner in the county. Glenn takes pies into the kitchen that taste homemade, but every time the Guys ask he responds the same, "It's private." Abraham keeps busy with the fire pit. Last to arrive is T-Dog with his famous sauce.
It's a typical Sunday Guy's night: poker, dominos, back slapping and enough fist bumps to get them through the next work week. While Tyreese deals the cards and Abe passes around cigars; Shane peers over his cards, "So, how was last night with that perky Jessie?"
They know what's coming and they hold their breath, "Nothing to tell."
Abe rolls the cigar back and forth between his fingers, "Nothing to tell because the Bisquick was a bad batch or nothing to tell 'cause its private like this one over here," gesturing toward Glenn.
Rick looks to the night sky and let's out an exasperated breath, "Nothing to tell 'cause there was no Bisquick."
Laughter explodes from the poker table, money is exchanged, and heads nod up and down and back of forth. T-Dog slaps Rick on the back and leans forward, "You, my brother, have to have the strongest hands in Kings' County." Rick's brows knit together in confusion, "What does that mean?"
The men begin to snicker as T-Dog continues, "I bet your balls…" he doesn't get to finish because a text alert from Rick's phone stops the table. He never receives text alerts. His phone rings yes, if the Sheriff Department needs him but half the phones at the table typically ring almost simultaneously.
He quickly drops his cards snatches the phone off the table and focuses with laser precision on the message that arrived. The Brotherhood's eyes are darting between each other and over to Rick to decode the change in behavior.
When his eyes go wide and his tongue snakes out sliding across his teeth as his lips part in a sly smile, "Damn, he got his first sext!" Tyreese explodes. Shane piles on, "Way to go Jessie."
Rick head snaps up, "Don't bring up Jessie, Lori or any other past date in this house again. Are we clear?" The table stills and Shane nods quickly. Rick fixes each of them with an icy gaze that could freeze water.
He returns to the picture from Michonne. She must by lying on the floor of her bedroom because her legs are crossed at the ankle and propped on the edge of a bed and all he can see are a pair of high heels that he seriously wants to lick. They are walking sin. Where the hell does she buy them?
After seconds or minutes he notices the caption: The name of the shoe is Python. I decided we needed a pair. He drops the phone and his dick hardens and pushes against his zipper. He manages to pick up the phone and begins typing at a frenzied pace.
The Guys are watching in amazement. They don't recognize this version of him. Glenn whispers, "What do we do?" Daryl takes in the men at the table. He knows this crew and based on his life changes he empathizes with Rick in new and profound ways. "Let's call it a night,"
Tyreese counters, "But it just got interesting."
"Yeah, well if we wait it will be more interesting next time."
T-Dog chimes in, "True." As they start to exit Rick places his phone facedown and asks, "Where were we?" They shake their heads. In unison, "We're packing it in Bruh."
They are a well oiled machine. Bottles collected, grills are cleaned, all in record time. Quickly the conversation shifts to the upcoming work week. T-Dog and continue with vague responses, Tyreese has nothing to report-ever. Since his athletic retirement co-owning the diner with his mom requires little effort. With the rest all at the department together they know the major details.
They are sitting, standing or leaning on the back porch taking in the insect orchestra of Georgia when Glenn, who promoted to the Criminal Science Division, remembers, "Hey, anybody met the new ADA Anthony?"
"Nah, they finally got some testosterone over there. Those women are ball busters, but they are fine as hell," Abe offers. The group chuckles but responds with an, "Amen."
Glenn contributes more to the discussion, "Nope, another woman. Some hot shot from Atlanta."
Shane adds in, "Yeah, we got a memo, bunch of meetings next week for expert testimony preparation." Groans of frustration shower the night.
"Man, I hate those meetings. They act like you're dumber than dirt," Daryl laments.
The group goes quiet and Daryl realizes the possibilities of being in the building and his eyes begin to dance with delight. Rick noticing the shift in Daryl and watches with eyes filled with curiosity. "Hey Shane, who are we meeting with again? I haven't caught up on my e-mails."
Rick thinks he can figure out why Daryl is so excited if he gets the name. Shane whips out his phone and starts scrolling through e-mails, Daryl shifts from foot to foot as Rick looks on with amusement.
"Uh, let's see Melanie, Michelle…no wait that not right…" Shane trails off and Rick freezes. "Michonne, Michonne Anthony."
"Yeah, that's it man. You got the memo too," Rick doesn't respond he nods his head and retreats to the house in search of his phone. He finds it on the counter proceeds to type a quick message and places it on top of the refrigerator.
Across town Michonne's phone signals an incoming message. She smiles. After his response to her shoe text she's excited. With a glass of wine at her lips she reads his direct command, "Have those Pythons on your feet at my expert witness prep meeting or else." She gulps down the rest of her wine and presses her thighs together. I hope my office is sound proof.
Michonne is grateful the Girls helped her move in on Sunday after brunch and shopping. She needs the order in her office if she plans to make it through the grueling week of meetings. She has organized the case files by deputy. She realizes after her initial review of the respective cases that she will need Sasha to sit on Tuesday and Friday and Maggie to sit in on Wednesday with a laboratory technician named Glenn. She is typing request through the intra-office system when there is a knock on her door.
"Please come in," She hears the door open and she responds without looking up. "I apologize, I am completing meeting requests. Please have a seat." She turns slowly her eyes watching the screen making sure it confirms submission. When she faces the visitor she almost recoils. He is leering and clearing undressing her with his eyes. Shane Walsh is beyond creepy. Ok, I am going to have to take him down brutally or he will never behave.
In a crisp business tone, Officer Walsh, thank you for meeting with me. I have exactly 3 questions for you regarding 2 cases. Did you bring the original reports for each case along with any personal notes, logs or addendum?"
Shane leans forward. She is smoking hot! With his ego completely out of control he decided to take a chance. "Look here…you take all the time you need. I could watch you all day," he smiles.
Within twenty minutes he is back at the station with Captain Morgan waiting at his desk. Shane walks in slow, head down until he hears Morgan slow measured tone, "What the hell is wrong with you? We have to maintain a strong working relationship with that office. "Why, in God's name would you attempt to sexually harass new ADA Anthony?!"
With that piece of information the entire unit freezes. Shane continues to stare at the floor. Captain I'm sorry," he mumbles.
"Sorry, you're sorry. She is demanding I supervise your meeting. Do I have time to supervise your meeting?"
"No Sir."
"Sit at your desk and complete a formal letter of apology for my approval by the close of business today."
"Yes sir." Captain Morgan returns to his office and slams the door.
Abe looks at his partner, "What the hell Shane. I told you they are bunch of ball busters. Now we all are going to suffer."
Shane shakes his head with a dreamy look in his eyes. "Trust me dude. When you meet her you will understand."
Rick walks in with Rosita close behind taking a seat at their respective desks. "What we miss?" She asks noticing the awkward energy in the room. Daryl turns away from the copy machine and starts preparing for his meeting. He seems really eager and Rick feels uneasy. Sure he and Michonne have been communicating but neither schedule has allowed any real time to get to know each other.
Am I fooling myself, she is way out of my league.
Abe points a thumb at Shane, "Crap for brains hit on the new ADA."
He is pulled from his thought when Shane screams out in pain. Rosita has knocked Shane clean out of his chair and on his ass. She is standing over him with her fist cocked and ready to unload. She leans over him, "Look pendejo-that is my Girl, Ride or Die. We got a whole squad and no one will ever find your sorry ass body. Are we clear?
Shane nods gently not to aggravate his throbbing skull. Abe looks between them in disbelief. Rosita turns to Rick, "I accept any disciplinary action you determine necessary Sir."
Rick fights to hide the smile and the subsequent laughter in his throat. "Um, he clears his throat trying to remain professional. Please take my inventory list of documents to the Records Department and prepare for my meeting on Friday." Rosita's entire face lights up.
"Thank you Sir. I won't let you down. She sweeps out of the room. When Rick looks up Shane is back in his chair with a lump beginning to form on the side of his head. Denise walks in with a brown bag and a mischievous smile on her face, "Lunch delivery for Daryl Dixon."
All eyes shift to Daryl whose cheeks blush an embarrassing shade of red as he snatches the bag from Denise. Voices throughout the unit call out: "Who is it from? What is it?" Daryl exits mumbling to himself; clutching the bag in one hand and his phone in the other. Rick sighs. It is going to be a long week.
Daryl leans his back against the exposed brink of the building and calls the only female number in his contact list. She picks up after the first ring, "Hey Baby."
"Sweetheart," he responds softly.
"I didn't come in but you need lunch and you can't keep eating all that meat and my job-"He interrupts her sentence.
"…Is to take care of me. I know, but sushi?"
"You like sushi with teriyaki-," he interrupts again.
"I was eating it off your body. It could have been tree bark," he laughs.
"We have a meeting and you have to behave. No touching the spots." She implores gently.
"Nope, you agreed. To be exact-"She interrupts him this time.
"Every inch of me belongs to you. But, I had a 5 orgasm love hangover," she sighs thinking back to the eventful night.
"Would you like another 'cause we could be at the cabin within the hour? I'll start the fire, you can wear my socks. What is up with you and my socks anyway?"
"What's the big deal? You act like I take them off your feet. I like your black socks fresh from the dryer or out of your drawer," she giggles and it sounds like beautiful wind chimes to his ears.
"The big deal is now I spend ridiculous amounts of money on detergent, fabric softener and those weird things for my sock drawer. I never considered a sock drawer, but now I have one. I even ordered socks online Sasha. Cashmere socks to take care of feet so small they fit in my hand."
The cell connection is silent; he stares at the phone as if the call dropped. Sasha?"
"What day does the order arrive at your house? " Her tone is crisp.
"Uh, Friday or Saturday I think. Why?" he asks in confusion.
"I'll tell you why. I am going to ride your face in nothing but those cashmere socks. Now go eat the sushi." The line goes dead.
A few hours later Sasha is in her weekly task force meeting on local operations when she feels her phone vibrate in her lap. She received a picture of an empty sushi container captioned with a United States Postal Service tracking number.
It is late afternoon and Michonne's day has been extremely productive. Each unit is welcoming and supportive. She knows she made the right decision taking the position. There will be challenges but they have a highly skilled staff. Michonne is sitting at her desk checking items of her 'to do' list when she receives a call from District Attorney Monroe to meet her at Kings' County Sheriff Department. She knew this was coming but she hoped she would have spoken to Rick by now, but it has been complete phone and text silence. Relax. The man is on patrol or in court. He has not changed his mind.
She decides to be strategic and calls Rosita who is addicted to Blue Tooth on her cell. If Rick is near he will at least hear half the conversation whether he is ignoring her or not. Rosita picks up on the third ring. "What's up? I want you to know I knocked that pendejo on his ass."
Rick sits up straight in the car and grips the wheel tighter. "Yeah…no, he didn't…exactly…boundaries. Oh, the Captain was not playing. Wait, let me ask." Rosita turns her head toward Rick. He plays it cool but anything related to Michonne's wants or desires requires an answer of yes.
"Sir, my former colleague ADA Anthony will be at our office this afternoon to deal with the unacceptable behavior of Officer Walsh. I was hoping to serve as a liaison to repair the damage done; under your supervision of course."
He pretends to give the request deep consideration. His heart is practically turning cartwheels. "I like the initiative. Please make the arrangements and clear both our schedules with dispatch," he delivers in a deliberate, professional tone.
Michonne stands from her desk and flips through her briefcase to make sure she has everything and exits her office. She stops by her assistant's desk and hands off a 'to do' list for the next day. "Aaron, I can't thank you enough. You are really making this transition easy."
"Thank you. I am learning so much. By the way, the office grapevine has your approval rating at 80% and you haven't even met everyone yet." Michonne places the tips of her fingers to the tip of her nose and laughs. "I'll enjoy that number while it last."
She enters the Sheriff Department through the main doors and checks in at the Security Desk with her new badge and identification. The assistant Denise, based on her name tag, insists on walking her back to the Captain's office. Michonne finds it odd but maybe that is standard protocol. Through the secure doors is the normal hustle of an active law enforcement unit. The dispatch radio is requesting units, suspects are cuffed in holding areas, witnesses and victims are being interviewed all surrounded by the constant low buzz of slightly elevated adrenaline.
Denise guides through cubicles, desks and copy machines until we arrive at Captain Morgan's door. She knocks quickly and he responds with a curt, "Enter." Denise opens the door and steps back to allow me inside the room on her way out. I take in the room and the attendees. Shane stands at attention behind the Captain's desk. District Attorney Monroe is seated in a chair to the left facing the desk. She turns slightly and gestures for me to take a seat as Captain Morgan stands, extends his hand in greeting and introduces himself. Before I can speak DA Monroe goes for the jugular. "Captain Morgan is this morning's meeting the type of behavior you allow to fester in this department because if so I'm appalled."
"Now hold on this is an isolated incident and Officer Walsh has prepared a formal apology for ADA Anthony during our meeting. He turns to Shane, "Isn't that correct."
"Yes Sir. On behalf of myself, my unit and our department I sincerely apologize for my lack of judgment and disrespect." Before this goes any further I interject.
"Thank you Officer Walsh. I was contacted by Officer Grimes and his Deputy in Training regarding a guided tour and liaison opportunities. Are they available?" I state expectantly. The Captain sits of a little straighter and DA Monroe deflates a little but it is a win-win for both offices.
Morgan dials directly, "Grimes please report to my office…yes, along with your Trainee. Walsh, hand ADA Anthony your letter on your way out the door and report back to desk duty." I wince slightly. I was setting boundaries, but I also didn't want Rick to get the wrong impression. Maybe I was excessive. Rosita did knock him on his ass. I'm drawn back into the meeting when I feel Rick enter the room. He is standing behind my chair and I am grateful to be sitting. I didn't expect to see him today but I did think about him while dressing. I chose a Caribbean blue sculpted collar sheath dress that matches his eyes and hugs every curve.
Deanna speaks first, "Rick and Rosita thank you so much for helping to restore the trust between our offices.
"Our pleasure," they respond in perfect unison. She turns sharply, "Morgan." He responds just as curtly, "Monroe." Morgan turns back to Rick, "You got this?"
"Yes Sir."
"Ok, ADA Anthony it was a pleasure." He extends his hand as Rick opens the door. I slide out making sure to brush against Rick when I step in to the hallway. Rosita brings up the rear. We tour the Processing Center, Records and Evidence Unit and finally, we end at an Interrogation Room. I forget I am ridiculously attracted to this man and marvel at his thorough professional presentation and humility. His intellect is exceptional and he allows Rosita to demonstrate all that she has learned. We are going to make some smart babies. Whoa-slow down.
As we enter the Interrogation Room, Rosita gets called away to sign paperwork. Once I hear the door close we both state the obvious, "You had her called away." He responds with, "You wore this dress for me." I turn and he is even better looking with the uniform.
"Well, the color does match your eyes."
"Yes, the paperwork could wait until Friday but I needed a moment to remind myself you are real and I am not some hopeless romantic fool." Michonne smiles at me and my knees get weak. I have got to build up some level of tolerance. The dress makes me want to carry her out of the station like some rock head Neanderthal. "About Shane," she places her right index finger against my mouth and I give the digit a chaste kiss.
She takes the finger into her mouth and pulls it out slowly as a light moan escapes the back of her throat. I can't move or think. All the blood in my brain has rushed to my groan. Then she extends my torture by bending over agonizingly slow and retrieving an item from her briefcase. When she stands she steps forcefully into my personal space and shoves her hand into my uniform pants pocket. I close my eyes and fall back against the wall. This woman is going to be the death of me.
When I open my eyes the door is open and she and Rosita are talking in the hall. "You were right. He is complex, complicated-special." I reach into my pocket as I exit to camouflage the bulge in my pants and my eyes widen in shock. I move through and around people trying not to draw attention. I reach the front door, hand still in pocket. She is backing out of the parking space when she slows winks and pulls away.
I re-enter the building and lock myself in the nearest bathroom to examine my gift from Michonne-sheer Caribbean blue panties. I have got to marry this woman.