This is for everyone who's working from home (for better or worse), not working at all (keep your head up) or homeschooling (Lord, be their strength).
I hope this makes your week a little better.
As always, enjoy x
Saturday 7th October 2017, 10.03am, Paul's House, Elmhurst, Queens
For as long as he could remember, Paul had been good with numbers. If he had been born to a different father, he would have put the hours he spent on the football field from the 5th grade through college into honing his God-given gift. So that Saturday morning, he ate breakfast and reviewed his credit card bills while Gina sewed name tags in the green and silver leotards. She didn't know that the frown on his face came from making the connection between the charges and the purple baseball cap with the wolf on it that he hated so much.
"What's wrong?" She asked, pricking her finger with the needle.
"I gave him that card for emergencies."
"In English?" She prodded.
His nostrils were flaring at the recurring $32 item line. "Taylor joined a gun club and didn't tell me."
Gina didn't mean for her eyes to flit straight to where the bullet for Jeremy pierced the wall, where her wooden cut-out sunflower clock used to hang, but they did. And he noticed straight away. "You never told him about that night, did you?" He shook his head. "Why not?"
"He can't know about that, Gina. He can't know that side of me."
She cleared her throat. "But you were in the Army. In combat. He already knows."
Paul clarified. "He doesn't know I shot at Jeremy. And he doesn't know why."
"Why did you?"
If he was my kid, I would'a-
Bang.
It dawned on him that they hadn't discussed that night at all and nothing good had come from sweeping it under the rug. "He was like a mad dog that night. All that broken glass and venom. It was like the old days; out of control. I told him to get out. I told him twice…and he laughed at me. After all these years and everything he's done; he laughed at me."
If he was my kid, I would'a-
Bang.
"Then he said something about Taylor. I mean…he started but I didn't let him finish. That's what set me off. I don't want my son solving problems with a gun."
"It's too late." She sipped her creamy coffee; it would've tasted better if her lover listened more. "Looks like Taylor's dealing with his feelings the same way you did that night; shooting them away." She sucked on her bottom lip for a while. "But he has something you don't."
"And what's that?"
"A dad who's always thinking about him, talking about him…who noticed that hat and what it meant." She bagged the leotards and shook out her coach's jacket. "The same man who protected me that night."
"I let the fox in the henhouse, Gina. It's the least I could do."
She put on her jacket. "The least you could do is pick up the phone and call him. I'll be at practice 'til 5. After that I need you to do something for me."
"Anything."
"When I come home, tell me about Nicole. Not the Jeremy part, who was she?"
"Gina…"
She called his bluff. "It's the least you could do, right?"
"Right."
11.40am, Finch's Townhouse, Carnegie Hill, New York
Sameen Shaw had a habit of showing up just in time for an early lunch at Finch's expense, but she didn't expect to find Zoe Morgan – formerly known as Legs – looking very comfortable on a chaise longue with a sleeping Delta on her chest. "Shaw," She greeted, not knowing what to say. "Do you want to hold her? She's not fussy when she's asleep."
Shaw gave her a blank stare. "Not in a thousand years. Where's Finch?"
"He went to the pharmacy to fill my prescription. And hers."
Shaw couldn't shake the feeling that she was in the twilight zone; the sucky one where Zoe was Lady of the Manor and Glasses was her lapdog. "Wow. Tell him I met the number and her boyfriend last night." She clapped her hands together. "Sandwiches."
Zoe read between the lines. "That sounds exciting."
"And to call me."
"I will." Zoe stretched her legs and rolled her head for comfort and alignment. "Anything else?"
For the second time in 12 hours, a less fun time, the cat got Shaw's tongue.
7.45pm, 8th Precinct
Despite an acrimonious divorce that left him sleeping on the sofas of a few more HR members than he cared to admit, Lionel Fusco still believed in love. After tapping out with Vonnie and Hazel, and hearing Shaw's latest escapade with a number no less, he was oddly optimistic about the Love in the City App. So much so, that his partner found him liking, swiping and hopefully matching in the bullpen.
"To think that's what my taxes pay for." She said, pinning another 8 by 10-inch portrait on their board. "For Curly Fries to find a new Frosty shake."
He turned his phone down on the table. "You been spending too much time with Sporty Spice. Who's she?"
"Alaysia Evans, 15, drum major at Bryant Charter High. She was shot last night coming home from practice. Stray bullet. Her mother fainted at the 114th Precinct this morning."
"More gang action in the Ravenswood projects?"
"You know it. Speaking of action," She'd already swiped his phone. "RosaDelMundo. She's pretty." She tapped the heart three times for emphasis. "BakingAmy? Borrrrring. DanaDTF? DanaDTF? Not for Fusco."
"You're enjoying this a bit too much, Carter."
"MollyMia has two kids and a dog. She looks like your type; brown hair, blonde streaks. Speaks Italian, bonus points. Look at the dog, Fusco." She waved his phone almost close enough for him to reach. While the adult Golden Retriever was the stuff nature walks and backyard baths were made of, it was the brown eyes and pink pout staring back at him that blew Fusco away. "And you like her. I'm liking."
He rolled his eyes. "Like away."
She waited for the spinning icon to stop. "It's a match!"
And with that he snatched his phone out of her right hand. "Great. Did I tell you that guy's a terrible influence on you?"
"Not this week." She smirked.
"Well, he is. Can we get back to business?"
"Says the guy who's macking in the office. Anyway, we're working with the Gang Squad starting Monday. Alaysia's in Intensive Care but let's hope she makes a full recovery; we need her testimony. Now, can we get back to your business?" She asked, with an intonation that came straight from her mother's mouth.
He sighed and took his phone out his pocket. "Woah."
"Woah?"
"You work fast, Carter. MollyMia wants to meet in Central Park. Tomorrow. Doggy date."
"Go for it."
"…Now I just need a dog…"
"We know a guy…"