A/N: Now it's the turn for Detectives Angell and Makka. Too bad we don't get to see them often! Doesn't mean Flack doesn't get to see them, does it?
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ANGELL & MAKKA – LIE, SALOME & PALM TREES
If you asked my father, he'd tell you that females did great work in the police force… as clerical workers. He's never believed that a woman's place is in the field. Although I'm pretty sure either one of you could give us Flacks a run for our money or swiftly kick our asses, I tend to agree with my old man.
Don't get me wrong. It has nothing to do with your ability to do the job. At least for me; if you want my father's take on the issue, take it to him. All I know is that you gals go out there and make a fine job, better than some slobs that will remain unnamed (yeah, I'm talking to you, Ferreti) for the sake of this argument.
You give the force… I dunno… a sexy glow? A sense of being with the times? And call me a misogynist pig, but knowing there's a good chance I'll be working with a nice looking gal makes the prospect of spending the next 12 hours running all over the city a helluva lot more bearable.
Take Makka, for example. She's a martial arts kitten and then some. She's got killer legs, and in more sense than one. One of the first cases we had to work together, we split searching for a possible suspect hidden inside a warehouse. I was looking around on the first floor when I heard her yelling at someone to stop. I nearly busted knees and ankles jumping my way down those darned rickety stairs running to help her. Turns out she didn't need my help in the least. The moment the perp saw me he began screaming to get her off him, that she was a crazy Bruce Lee wannabe out to kill him. I mirandized the creep in between deep breaths, and she was as fresh as a cucumber. I swear she was filing her nails, trying hard not to laugh at me, or at him, or at both of us.
Needless to say, I fell hard for her.
Fortunately, I never told her. She dated me twice and then dropped me. She dated Messer three times. Not that I was keeping score. Neither one of us got very far with her, and not for lack of trying. I blame those legs of her. I swear they give any sane man all sorts of ideas.
It's a lie, she says she loves me, she says she feels my pain… Makka is one of those girls looking solely for a Mr. Right Now. She turned me down quite nicely, mind you, telling me I was one of those guys who have all the makings for a great Mr. Right Forever, but she just wasn't the woman that was looking for what I had to offer. Nicest thing anyone has ever told me whilst ripping my heart apart.
Then there's Angell. She's got this Mediterranean look about her that makes you feel… wantonly. In the rhythm of her divine voice is the rhyme of love, and in the dark circles around her eyes you can see the palm trees, drunken with the sun…
A couple of dates she refused to call dates later, I found out that my timing sucked. Big time. She was nursing a broken heart, broken by another detective no less, and she wasn't looking for anything serious just yet. Or with another cop, for that matter. We became good friends, confidants at times, and my respect for her has grown immensely.
Now that she's ready to start thinking seriously about starting a new relationship, it's too late for us. She says we know each other far too well for it to work out, that the relationship bus for us left the station a long time ago, and that we're better off as just friends who sometimes grab a beer after a lousy shift or end up playing a round or two of one-on-one after a lazy Sunday brunch. I agree with her. Time has this way of making relationships shift, and ours has, towards friendship. Besides, these days I'm more inclined towards other type of woman…
Perhaps I'll set her up with Doc Hawkes. Me thinks that's just what she needs. And as long as she's happy, I'm happy as well.
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"Mentira Salomé" by I. Piñeiro and "Palmeras" by Agustin Lara; this track is the only one that's got more than one song… somehow I thought it fitted the two female detectives…