Okay, after having a nice long chat with my mother (the source of a fair few of my evil fanfic schemes) I managed to refine my initial ideas for this chapter. There were so many and now there are a few more. Here it is.
Chapter 9
I opened my eyes the barest minimum only to find that the room was dark. Just as well, I thought. I don't think my head could have managed any light penetrating it's fragile, throbbing state. Reaching my hand up I encountered the source of my splitting headache, a bump that felt like it was the size of a bowling ball, but more realistically was probably only golf ball size. How did that get there? Closing my eyes against the darkness that enveloped and pressed in on me I cast my mind back to the last thing I remembered: the slight scent of petrol and a couple of muttered words. I couldn't quite make them out at the time, but now as I reflected I realised what had been said. "Sorry Peigi." It seems obvious why they were apologising. I mean, Hello, giant bump on my head! But what did they want with me?
Here's a better question for you, who is 'they'? Very puzzling, I know... but there wasn't much I could do about it at the current moment. The best I could do was go through the events of my day and try to work out when I had been kidnapped...
I distinctly remember getting into my car after visiting Inez and driving to Frank Reterin's place of residence to blow off steam by bringing his sorry ass back into the system. And the Rangeman SUV pulling up behind me on the street... Chuck! It must have been Chuck! He's had it in for me since day one. Although, given the circumstances of our first meeting, I can't really blame him. That was definitely one UGLY situation.
I remember like it was yesterday. (Just so's you know, it was a good four years ago.)
I had been in the gym going through a few yoga positions, trying to calm my body before work. I had been feeling ratty all week, but it finally came to a head that morning. Dad, well, Ranger, entered the gym with a new recruit in tow intending to put him through a few paces as part of an initial evaluation. While Ranger does not favour me in any way over the other employees he does hold more respect for my combat skills, given that he had trained me personally from the age of twelve and by fifteen I was able to pin him without help. So I was chosen to challenge dear old Chuck... actually, I was chosen to challenge Benjamin Calligan... he didn't get his nickname until that afternoon... when the security footage had circulated the office entirely, but we'll get back to that in a moment. There I was circling the mat with Ben, still feeling queasy, but not willing to let anyone know. If they thought there was even the most miniscule possibility I was sick they'd have sent me home immediately, and I just couldn't have that.
The combat didn't last long. In fact it was over in approximately two minutes. I landed a decent amount of punches for the timeframe, but was a bit slow on the defence, I'm afraid. When Ben managed a kick to my gut the results were in no way pretty. Suddenly, that morning's breakfast was appearing before my eyes... all over the newest employee... That's right, I vomited, spewed, technicolour yawned, yakked, whatever you want to call it, that's what I did. Speaking of, I believe the guys decided to call it "up-chucking", hence, Ben's brand new nickname: Chuck Bucket, or Chuck for short.
Seems like a hilarious story to most, but for Ben it must have been a traumatic experience. Think about it. "Welcome to the company, be a darl' and catch the contents of my stomach, will you?" The fortunate thing is that Ella was there in a flash with the necessary cleaning materials and a clean set of clothes; the unfortunate thing is that the security footage of the event has made the Christmas "Company Highlights" DVD every year since. Let me tell you, there was no forgive and regret to that situation.
Naturally, I avoid ever partnering with him if I can help it, but sometimes there's just nothing you can do. Like today for example... It is still today, right? Oh well, we'll assume it is for the sake of my brain.
When he turned up at Reterin's house my spirits plummeted, and as you know already, they weren't too high to begin with. After several moments of staring into his exceedingly smug face I breathed a heavy sigh. "What are you doing here?" I asked.
"Funny thing," he began, grin growing still more. "I was just about to ask you the same thing."
"I'm working, what does it look like? Now what are you doing here?"
Chuch shrugged nonchalantly and stuck his hands in his pockets. "I noticed you were alone and figured you needed a partner." Subtext: I've been tracking your movements trying to find something make your life a living hell and this is it. Like fuck am I gonna sit back and let this situation go to waste.
"I'm fine," I told him, reaching under the seat for my gun. "You can go back to whatever it was you were doing."
"You're supposed to have a partner, Peigi. It's company policy." This was, of course, true, but I gave him the satisfaction of one of the world famous eye rolls I had inherited from my mother.
"Fine," I uttered, rather annoyed by his logic. He stepped back from my door, allowing me to exit the car and held out his hand expectantly as I did so. I looked from the hand to him and back with a perplexed expression on my face. "What?" He flourished his hand meaningfully in the air in front of me and I allowed a semblance of clarity to cross my features. "Oh!" I slapped his hand in the universal 'five' manner and started past him up the walk to Reterin's front door.
Before I'd taken more than a few steps his large hand gripped my upper arm in a firm, almost painful way. "I need to see the file," he said through clenched teeth.
"No you don't. I have all the information you need right here." I tapped my temple with the index finger of my left hand. "Besides, I already locked the car, it'd just be a pain to have to open it." For good measure I added in my foolproof puppy dog eyes, not much use on him though, he simply narrowed his eyes and loosened his grip on my arm.
"Well?" Chuck prompted as I started back up the path.
"Probably armed, missed his court date, needs to go back to lock up," I shrugged. Yeesh, you'd think he'd know that kind of thing after seven years in the business.
"What did he do?" Chuck persisted.
I rolled my eyes again, not that he could see it. "I told you already, he missed his court date."
"Peigi, you're getting on my last nerve. Tell me the fuck why we're apprehending him or I'm dragging you ass back to Haywood and filling your father in on all the dirt I've collected on you."
Letting go of a deep breath I braced myself for his reaction to my words and said slowly and determinedly, "He missed his court date and needs to go back to the clink." I honestly thought he was going to tackle me to the ground and bash my head in, the look he was giving me when I turned to face him. "Are you going to help or not?" I asked, trying to stave off the potential mayhem that would have emerged had I not distracted him, albeit slightly, from the source of his suffering.
With a short, curt nod he took up position at the back of the house. It would seem, based on the two situations I can remember, that things always end quickly when both he and I are involved. A mere five minutes after our sidewalk argument we were once again standing next to my vehicle, but with one small difference, Frank Reterin was thrown over Chuck's shoulder.
After knocking with no response twice I decided to try the handle. Low and behold, it was unlocked. Honestly, sometimes I think they want to be dragged back to jail. When I entered it was to find Frank unconscious on the couch, a beer in one hand and the television remote in the other. Not wasting any time, I slapped the cuffs on him and called Chuck in at the same time. He hauled him over his shoulder in a fireman's carry and carried him out to my SUV without a word and then we stood on the sidewalk having a vaguely familiar argument. It went something like this:
"I'll meet you at the cop shop."
"I can take it from here."
"You couldn't lift him to carry him out here, how are you going to get him into the station?"
"I'll get a cop to help me, it's what they're there for."
"Wouldn't it just be easier for me to come with you and do it myself?"
"No. I'll be fine. Now on your bike. I don't need your help anymore."
I punctuated the end of the argument by climbing into my car and slamming the door shut. This is why I came to the conclusion that the person who had hit me on the head as I emerged from the back of the police station had to be Chuck. You'd think someone would have noticed something like that. Aren't Cop Shops supposed to have like extra strict surveillance both inside and out? Apparently not, because my attack managed to go unnoticed.
Suddenly the light switched on, and even though my eyes were still shut, it was too much for my poor little head. I threw an arm over my face to block out the assault just as a booming voice penetrated the silence.
"Up and Adam Peigi!"
Sorry, I resolved last chapter's cliffie, but seem to have created another. I promise to try really hard to get the next chapter out soon.
