All characters you recognize from the J/E Plum series are borrowed for fun, not for profit.
Thank you everyone for reading and reviewing. All of your kind words have been very motivating and inspirational. Thanks for following me on this adventure.
I'd like to give a shout out to my personal pep squad; Carol, Julie and Kim. Thank you for all of your help and for cheering me on. I like to picture you all holding pink and silver pom-poms while doing this. It really does help.
Okay, let's rock n' roll. -T
Chapter 3
"What about the chick with all the problems?" Johnny smirked. He bobbed his head. "I forgot to ask if she was hot or not. I was thinkin' probably I could bang some sense into her."
"Uhh—well―Vinnie decided it was best to take care of her personally." I twisted a curl around my finger.
Simultaneous groans erupted from Lula and Connie at my remark. In their opinion, I had caved, losing the best possible chance of ridding the office from the wrath of Joyce. Lula was going to be pissed about Johnny being my new partner. I wasn't sure if I should tell her yet that the situation would only be temporary.
"Since we are going to be partners, I'd like to know a little more about your talents," I said, hoping to distract the girls.
Johnny's face lit up like a streetlight.
"My best talent would have to be my thumbs," he said.
"Oooh, girl. I've been waiting for this." Lula clapped her hands together. "Show her what you do with those nasty thumbs."
"When I was younger, I had an unfortunate accident, and my thumbs got broke right at the knuckle." He held his hands out, palms facing down and wiggled his thumbs. "It wasn't until I took up an interest with the ladies that I was aware of my—ahem—special talents. I owe this all to Trina Farina and one helluva night in the backseat of a Delta 88."
He made his hands into fists and sandwiched them together so his knuckles and palms were touching.
"I've had women say to me it's the best feeling they've had with somethin' that didn't need batteries. Size don't matter when you know how to work the spot." He quickly added, "Not that I have a problem in that area."
Johnny cracked his neck back and forth, and then shrugged the jacket up on his shoulders. Arms out and knuckles touching, he extended his thumbs straight up toward the ceiling. Glancing at me to make sure I was paying attention, he rotated his thumbs. They made a popping sound as they flicked around the double joint at the knuckle. His thumbs sped up, and he winked at me. I just stood there wide-eyed. After about thirty seconds of thumb popping turns, he stopped and placed his hands on his hips.
Connie put down her nail file and smirked. "Sooo, that's some talent, huh, Steph?"
"Yep, impressive," I drawled out. Johnny gauged my wide-eyed, tight-grinned reaction.
"That ain't impressive. That's just nasty. Can you believe some floozy actually gets off on that shit?" Lula shivered.
"Hey, lemon head! Don't judge until you've experienced the thumbs. I had one broad squirt clear up to my elbows." Johnny slid his hand up his forearm.
The mental image reminded me of the time Joe and I had gone to the county fair. We saw a cow give birth in the dairy building. The farmer had put on long rubber gloves and guided the slimy calf out. Gallons of clear fluid sloshed out of the mama cow and splattered up onto the glass window in front of us. I'd thought I was going to barf up my breakfast after witnessing that event, and now was no exception.
Lula clucked her tongue. "Now, how's that gonna catch a skip? What are you gonna do, orgasm them to death?"
Johnny responded to her with a shark's grin and jumpy eyebrows. Lula retaliated with a middle finger salute, and then shoved it down her throat, accompanied by a gagging noise.
Johnny reached for a donut, and Lula smacked his hand. "Don't be contaminating that box with them disgustin' thumbs. Go wash your hands!"
"My hands are clean." He held them up.
"We all saw what you just did. Just thinking 'bout that makes 'em dirty. If you want a donut, go wash 'em." Lula pointed to the bathroom.
I rubbed my temples and took a cleansing breath. "You can have a donut later. Right now I need to know what you're bringing to the table if you're going to be working with me. What else ya got?"
He looked up at the ceiling, and then lolled his head over to me. "I can do poetry. Wanna hear a poem?"
Oh, my gosh. What was I in for with this guy?
I sighed. "Sure, why not?"
Clearing his throat, he began, "Roses are red, violets are blue. You got a nice ass. How 'bout we screw?"
"Oh brother," Connie groaned.
I tried to stifle my laugh. "Does that stuff actually get girls?"
"Sometimes," he shrugged. "I get slapped a lot."
"Hunh, I'd do more than slap you if you said some shit like that to me," Lula huffed.
Johnny unbuttoned his coat and brushed the sides back, holding them in place with his hands on his hips. "Oh yeah? What would you do, sunshine?"
"First, I'd use some Lulajitsu on your ass," she began.
"You think so, huh?" He stepped in front of Lula, invading her personal space. "Then what?"
"Next, I'd string you up by them funky thumbs. Then I'd take my big ass glock outta my purse and pistol-whip you."
He took another step and towered above her. "And then?"
Lula looked down. "Oh Lord—tell me that's your gun."
"Yep. It's loaded too," he said.
"Ha!" Connie snorted. "He said that― never mind. I shoulda known you'd be the first one to give him a boner, Lula."
Lula shot Connie a dirty look. "Shut-up! I'll deal with you later."
"And you—" She glared at Johnny. "I'd slap you right now if I didn't think it would make you explode in your underpants." Giving him a shove, she added, "Get the hell away from me. That's disgustin'."
"I ain't wearing underpants, corn pop. Wanna find out? Push me again," Johnny dared Lula.
"That's it! Where's my gun? I'm just gonna shoot him." Lula stormed toward the file cabinet where she kept her purse.
"Oh-ho-ho—no!" Connie waved her arms. "If you wanna shoot him, take him outside. I don't need that kind mess in here. I mopped."
Looking down at the soiled tile, I noticed the tiny paper remnants littering the floor. Cocking my head, I observed, "You don't mop. You don't even sweep."
"Not anymore I don't," she snapped. Staring icily at Lula, she pointed her nail file. "Unless you're volunteering for domestic duties, no shooting people in this office."
"Nobody's shooting anyone, anywhere!" I declared sternly.
"Well, I need to do something. He's got my stomach all upset. Maybe I need a donut to calm my nerves."
Lula bent deep over the coffee table to open the bakery box and farted. The little 'oops' she squeaked meant it surprised her as much as it did the rest of us.
After selecting a jelly filled, she stood up, turned back around and said nonchalantly, "Excuse me. I feel better now."
Johnny backed up a few feet and waved his arms in a criss-cross motion. "Whoa, baby! You wanna tic-tac for that thing?"
Lula pointed at Johnny. "You shut up. I only have indigestion cause of you. My farts don't smell. Besides, this whole office smells like date night at the senior center on account of you. Did you take a bath in that shit?"
"I've been using this cologne for years. Women like how I smell."
"Do any of these women have their original teeth?" Lula sneered.
"Alright! Knock it off you two!" My veins were pulsing from the neck up.
"What?" Johnny pointed at Lula. "She started it."
Maybe trying to team us up was a bad idea. It would be more like a babysitting job for me to keep those two from killing each other. I should've negotiated a higher percentage with Vinnie.
"Enough." My eyes shifted back and forth between the two of them. It was only ten o'clock and I was already craving a chocolate bar. This was going to be a long day.
"I need you to focus, Johnny. What kind of skills do you have that will make you a good bounty hunter?" I needed something to work with. The thumb trick and poetry weren't going to help me pay the rent.
"I can shoot a gun," he offered helpfully.
"That's good, but we hardly ever shoot anyone."
He put his index finger to his lip while he thought some more.
"I'm big. Tall, I mean. Plus, I work out and shit. So, I'm in decent shape and a pretty fast runner. I can take a guy down in no time flat," he finished proudly, folding his arms in front of his chest.
I let out a sigh of frustration. "Well, I suppose that's a start."
"Aww, sweet cheeks, I'm gonna be there to protect you from now on. We're gonna make one helluva couple―I mean team," he corrected himself and swung his arm around my shoulder.
I ducked from under his grip. "Connie, who do you have for us?" I looked at Johnny and back to Connie, "And make it easy."
She handed me a file. "Shelly Mazanet—simple theft and resale case. She missed her court date yesterday."
"That's all?" I took the file from Connie and flipped it open.
"I got more, but let's see how you guys do on that one first." Connie put the other files back in her desk drawer.
I glanced over the information in the file. Shelly Mazanet, twenty-six, 5'4" and single.
"No mug shot?"
Connie shrugged and scratched her head with a pencil. "I'll give it to RangeMan if you don't want it."
I flipped through the pages. Shelly had worked at the feminine products plant. She'd been fired for stealing tampons and reselling them to her friends at a discount, but 100% profit for her. How fitting that my first case with Johnny was the workplace Vinnie had threatened me with. Looks like there was a way to make some money at the feminine factory after all.
"We got this," I said confidently.
The guys at RangeMan would have a field day humiliating me behind my back if I passed on an easy skip like Shelly. I hoped they enjoyed their fun while it lasted. Those days were over. From there on out, I was going to take every case Connie offered.
"Let's roll partner," I said to Johnny.
Lula muttered something under her breath. Rather than question her mumbling, I said my goodbyes and heard the bells chime against the door behind us.
"What a piece of shit," Johnny remarked about my car and held out his hand. I slapped him five, and he shook his head.
"Give me the keys," he commanded.
"This is my car, and I'm driving. You don't even know where you're going. Get in," I growled.
He pouted his way around the car, back to the passenger side. The dented door opened with a pop, and he folded his tall body in. His long legs rested against the dash.
"Christ, there's no leg room. I'll bet you don't do much fucking in this crappy thing. Turn the air on, will ya? I'm sweatin' like a pig in this suit." Old Spice scented sweat oozed from his pores.
"This car runs just fine and can get us from points A to B. Roll down your window. It's nice out." Without the fresh air, I would probably die from asphyxiation due to the toxic vapors he was emitting.
"Listen. This is our first apprehension together. Just hang back, listen and observe," I suggested.
"Ok. I'll keep my hand on my gun. Just in case. The fat chick said—"
"I don't care what Lula said. No shooting! And don't call her fat. She's just big-boned," I corrected.
"Big-boned means fat. I hooked up with a chick from an on-line ad once who had that in her bio—not that I got anything against thicker broads. I just thought big-boned meant something else. Talk about disappointment."
I wasn't going to touch his miscommunication subject with a ten-foot pole. Not even if I was wearing gloves.
"Let's just say Lula's voluptuous. Probably she wouldn't mind if you said that about her. Anyway, just leave your gun in the car. Shelly's not dangerous."
"Where is your gun?" he questioned.
"At home."
Unloaded and in my cookie jar. But he didn't need to know that.
"I get along just fine without it. I have pepper spray and a taser for emergencies."
"Typical chick," he sighed, shaking his head.
"No. This isn't a macho contest. You have to remember that your main goal in this job is to bring the skip into the station. Not the morgue. For now, you are just observing. Pay attention. Watch and learn. Don't say or do anything. Got it?" I was impressed with my authoritative speech.
"Yeah, yeah, I got it. No shooting, lay back, keep my mouth shut, blah-dee, blah, blah," he droned.
Obviously, he wasn't as impressed with my speech. "This is serious, Johnny. I need to know I can trust you."
"Look at this face," he pointed at himself. "Tell me this isn't a face you can trust." He roused a cheesy smile, and I rolled my eyes.
I parked the car a couple houses down from Shelly's, and we walked up to her door. It was a cute, yellow cape cod with white trim. Red geraniums filled the window boxes. I rapped at the door, and after a few seconds, it swung open.
"Holy shit!" Johnny exclaimed.
"What?" The freckle-faced, red headed woman standing before us looked up and down the street. Her hair wasn't just red. It was an orangish-burgundy and permed so tight, I assumed they used golf pencils as rollers.
"Your hair—it's orange," Johnny observed bluntly.
She patted her curls at the back of her neck. "You like it? It's my natural color." Poor girl.
"Makes me wonder if the valance matches the carpet," Johnny said with a wolf grin. His eyes traveled the path from the top of her head down to the crotch of her jeans.
The girl just smiled up at him. Probably the closest thing she'd had to a compliment in a long time. I imagine she spent her Friday nights grocery shopping and Saturday night prepping her meals for the next week.
"Are you Shelly Mazanet?" She nodded to me. "We represent the Vincent Plum Bond Agency. You missed your court date yesterday, and we're here to bring you down to get rescheduled."
She looked down at her pink fuzzy slippers. "I'm sorry. I was out looking for a job. After Grandma passed away, she left me this house. It's hard to keep up with all the bills by myself. I need to get something lined up before anything goes on my record."
Sounded like a valid reason to me. My own personal bank account teetered in more of a grayish area rather than black most of the time. Hopefully that would be changing soon with the additional income I was anticipating.
It wasn't my place to hash out whether her actions were right or wrong. I just needed to get her down to the station, so I could get my hands on some more files that Connie was hoarding. Time to impress Johnny with my magical coaxing skills.
"I see. You're not getting sentenced today. I just need you to come down to the station with us and reschedule your court date. You can look for a job when you get back. My mom told me the button factory is hiring," I offered.
Her tiny smile morphed into a frown. "What if they don't let me leave? I have student loans and house payments to make. What if I get down there, and they throw me into the slammer? I can't go to the big house. I need to make money somehow until I get can published. I'm an aspiring writer. I'm sensitive and gentle." She sucked in a gasp, "What if some Amazon named Big Bertha wants to make me her prison playmate?"
Shelly was on the verge of hyperventilating. After alleviating her worries, I instructed her to breathe and calm down. She really hadn't thought out the consequences of her illegal actions. I rubbed her upper arm reassuringly once and stepped back.
"I'll tell you what. I'll call Connie at the office and have either her or Vinnie meet us there. That way you can get bonded out again right away. I'll make that call, but only if you promise to keep your next court date." I held my breath waiting for her to respond.
"Okay. Only if you're positive I won't get thrown in jail," she fretted and lowered her gaze.
Johnny stepped in and rubbed her shoulder. "Absolutely, my little tangerine. You wouldn't wanna miss our date tonight."
Shelly's head snapped up. "You want to go on a date with me?"
"Sure, okay. Since you asked so nicely." Johnny gave her a wink. "Anyways, I still wanted to find out about the carpet color. Are you a shag or more like a berber?" He zoomed in on her jeans again.
What the hell was he doing? I angled my foot into the doorjamb, so she couldn't slam it shut. Maybe we should just leave. This was turning into a harassment case very quickly. The donut I'd eaten earlier now felt like a lump of cement in my stomach. What happened next wasn't what I had anticipated.
She made a tight lipped grin and swatted at his chest. "Oh, you! Come on in. I just need to put my shoes on and grab my purse."
"I just thought of a poem for you, curly-q. Wanna hear it?" Johnny asked.
I glowered at Johnny. "We should really be going. You can tell it to her on the way."
"I love poems! I'm an English major. I want to hear it now," Shelly bubbled.
"Okay. I made this one up special for you, chili pepper." Johnny cleared his throat and started, "Roses are red. Carnations are pink. Tonight, I'll have your panties off before you can blink."
"You're funny," she giggled and scampered off to grab her shoes.
I waited till Shelly was out of earshot. "What the hell was that? What happened to keeping your mouth shut and observing?" I was livid.
"Hey, it all worked out, right? She's going to the station to get rescheduled. We'll get paid, and later, I'm going to get laid. Everyone's happy."
"You're going to get us involved in some sort of sexual harassment case. This is serious business. You can't treat the skips like that!"
"Hey, sexual harassment ain't no joking matter." Johnny rubbed his chin. "She does have nice cans though."
"You're unbelievable! This could have gone so terribly wrong."
"But it didn't. So quit bitching."
I held my tongue for now. Not because he was right, but because I was afraid that I might ask him for his gun so I could shoot him with it.
I tried to busy myself with the décor of Shelly's themed interior. I didn't see or smell a cat, but apparently she had a thing for them. Looking around the house, I noticed several porcelain cats and cat puzzle pictures on the walls.
"How long does it take someone to find shoes?" Johnny mused.
"So are you really going to take her out tonight?" It did seem like Shelly had been gone for a while.
"Heck yeah! Homely girls can be real freaks in the sack. They kinda live in their own kinky, little fantasy world." He smirked and took in the sights of the room. "Sides, I ain't got nothing better to do other than sit around that motel room, get drunk and jerk off." Charming.
"Was she going to meet us down there?" he wondered quizzically.
"No, why?" I looked down the hall lined with feline portraits toward the kitchen.
"Cause I just saw an orange brillo pad float by the window. Either she just took off on her bike, or she's out there practicing for the roller derby."
We ran out the front door and watched Shelly round the corner on her cruiser bike. Johnny took off after her in a rapid sprint. I hopped in my car to catch up to them. Why would anyone choose to run when they could drive?
I followed Shelly's trail and reached them a block and a half away. Johnny was straddling the front tire, leaning on the handlebars. Shelly seemed quite amused with whatever Johnny was saying.
"She's excited about our date," Johnny boasted. "Her car is almost out of gas, so she's been using her bike."
"I just wanted to get some supplies from the store for our romantic evening together. There's a new Buck Barn in the strip mall down the road. You can find everything there, and I'm on a budget," Shelly explained.
"Why didn't you tell us you were leaving?" I asked.
"I was coming right back. Honest. I wasn't going to run off."
"I'll ask Connie if she can make a stop at the store before bringing you home. Let's bring your bike back and get the house locked up. I'm sure you'll have plenty of time to get everything ready for your big date with Johnny."
Making a Y-turn, I headed back to her house. I pulled in the driveway, just in case she had more gas in her car than she led us to believe.
I made the call to Connie requesting her services. She said she'd meet us at the station and promised to take Shelly shopping afterward. In return, I promised to relay any repulsive date details offered my way.
After Johnny helped Shelly lock up, they piled into the Toyota, and we headed on our way. Thankfully, Shelly was a petite girl. My backseat barely accommodated my purse, let alone a full grown person. Shelly sat behind me, because Johnny's seat was reclined and almost touching the backseat.
"So, how's this work, apple cheeks? After we turn her in, I mean. Do the cops give us a check or somethin'?" Johnny asked.
"No. We'll get a receipt for Shelly's recovery, take it back to the office, and Connie pays us."
Actually, Connie would be paying me. Johnny would have to get his money from Vinnie. I turned on the radio as an attempt to distract him from asking more questions.
Johnny turn awkwardly in his seat and rubbed Shelly's knee. "So pumpkin-head, you ever had a thumb-gasm?" Jeez, not again. I pressed down on the gas and hurried the trip along.
While Connie dealt with Shelly's paperwork, Johnny and I stood at the desk with Chrissy, the clerk, who was busy writing out our body receipt. Johnny sweet-talked Chrissy with his cornball lines, and she did her best to give him the cold shoulder.
Chrissy was new and worked part-time. A few years younger than me, she was girl next door cute. She was also quiet but had been pleasant in our previous encounters. Her bouncy, pale blonde hair was perfect and never out of place.
Trying to ignore their conversation and looking around the station, I smiled as Joe sauntered in my direction. He had a distressed red, short-sleeved shirt tucked into his perfect-fit jeans, because, of course, Joe considered wearing a button-down shirt to be dressing up.
"Hiya, Cupcake." He pulled me in for a hug and gave me a quick peck on the lips.
"Joe, I'd like you to meet Johnny. He's my new partner."
Morelli quirked an eyebrow, and I mouthed an inaudible 'later'.
Giving me a slight nod, he extended his hand to Johnny for a manly handshake. "Nice to meet you, Johnny. You guys staying out of trouble?"
"We just brought in our first skip together, and I'm still clean. No trouble so far." My response dripped with sarcasm.
Johnny took a step back and leaned on the bar height counter. "This might be the best gig I've ever had. I plan to pick up lots of tail with this job."
Joe shot me a suspicious look. Time to reassure my sexy spaceman that I wasn't Johnny's potential victim.
"Johnny has a date lined up with Shelly for tonight. She's the FTA we just brought in." I smiled.
"I see." Joe wrapped his arm under mine. "Steph, can I talk to you for a minute privately?"
I really didn't want to leave Johnny alone with Chrissy. The last thing I needed was a pissed off clerk that we saw on an almost daily basis. On the other hand, if Joe was concerned about my partner, Johnny, I needed to rectify that issue right away.
Joe saw my hesitation. "Please?"
"What did you want to talk about?" I asked as he guided me over to the vending machines.
"Eddie wanted me to give you a warning about your lead foot. I didn't think it was appropriate to reprimand you in front of your new partner." Stuffing his hands in his front pockets, Joe rocked back on his heels.
"I don't need to be reprimanded at all. I was only like five miles over. That's hardly speeding," I pointed out.
He put on his cop face. "One mile over can be considered speeding, Steph."
"Who would go through all the hassle of a ticket for that? All I'd have to say is a gust of wind came along and the judge would throw it out."
"Just slow down, and you won't get a ticket," he said and bounced his palms toward the floor.
"Maybe I'll just have to bribe the officer." Tossing my hair over my shoulder, I added in a little girl voice, "Why Officer, whatever am I being charged with?"
"You're not fooling me with that innocent tone. Naughty girls like you should be handcuffed," he retorted and folded his arms. I think he was afraid of groping me on impulse.
His sexy tone gave me an instant hot flash. I wondered how far I could push him before he dragged me into his office, so we could continue our role play conversation with a lot more touching. I knew there were boundaries he wouldn't cross in the middle of the police station. To the outside observer, we were just having a casual discussion.
"Mmmm, I might enjoy that, Officer. I'm not hiding anything, but you can go ahead and search me, if you want to." I batted my eyelashes at him.
"I might just do that." Joe clasped his arms behind his back and pinned them by leaning against the soda machine. I was definitely having an effect on him.
He leaned in and whispered in my ear. "I can be very thorough, Ms. Plum." The way he emphasized the word 'very' gave me goose bumps.
"You still haven't told me what I'm being charged with, Officer."
I ran my finger down Joe's chest. He shook his head with a devilish grin. The look he gave me said I was pushing all the right buttons. I guessed within two minutes, I'd be lying flat on my back on top of Joe's hastily cleared off desk.
"That's assaulting an officer, ma'am. I'm afraid I'll have to— shit!" Joe's phone buzzed, and he checked the message.
"Damn. I gotta get going. They're ready for me in the interrogation room," he stated with disappointment. "We'll have to test your bribing skills later."
"Looking forward to it, Officer. See you at dinner?" I leaned into him.
"I'll try my best." He put his hands on my shoulders and gave me a kiss on the cheek. "Be good, Cupcake." He hollered in Johnny's direction. "Nice meeting you, Johnny."
Johnny gave him a mild salute in return.
Remembering how important this witness was from our discussion that morning, I cupped my hands to my mouth.
"Good luck!"
Joe gave me a backhanded wave, and I watched his perfect ass disappear as he turned into the interrogation room.
I don't know what transpired between Johnny and the clerk, but it appeared as though he'd struck out. He was sitting on the mission bench, writing in his spiral notebook. Tucking it back into his jacket as I approached, he pulled out the body receipt, signaling we were good to go.
"So? How'd it go? Did you get a date for tomorrow with Chrissy?" I questioned.
"Nah, chicks like her don't go out with guys like me."
His response hadn't exactly answered my question. Did he not ask her out or did she turn him down? If it was the latter, the martyr in me was disappointed in having missed her rejection to his proposal.
I thought about Chrissy. She wasn't stuck up and seemed pretty nice. She was attractive, but not drop-dead gorgeous. As far as I knew, she was single. He might've had a chance with her, but Johnny was like a circus. You never knew what crazy stunt he would perform next.
That only roused my curiosity more.
"I think you should ask her out. The worst she can do is say no. Chrissy is shy sometimes. I know she's pretty. You don't think she's stuck-up or something, do you? Because that was just Chrissy acting like Chrissy."
Oh no, I was doing it again.
Averting crisis, I pulled myself right back in.
"She's not my type. She would never—ahh, forget it." He slapped his hand at the air. "I don't want to talk about it anymore."
He had a type? I thought breathing and female was his type.
We headed out to the parking lot in silence. I was feeling pretty hungry and thought about picking up Cluck-in-a-Bucket chicken for everybody.
"Where should I take the little firecracker out tonight?" Johnny asked, looking at me over the top of the car.
I thought about it as we scrunched into the Toyota.
"Oh, I don't know. Rossini's is pretty nice," I sighed.
The last time Joe had taken me there for dinner was a romantic memory. The food had been fabulous. Dessert had been decadent. What happened after dinner had been even more memorable.
I sighed again, and Johnny gave me a perplexed look as I put my keys in the ignition.
"Sounds expensive. I don't want her thinking I'm making some kind of investment. There's no implication of commitment with a sack of burgers and a bottle of chocolate syrup. I'll be dessert, and she can be the cherry on top," he chuckled, elbowing me.
Burgers sounded good, but chicken was cheaper. I didn't anticipate anyone back at the office chipping in for lunch. Drive-thru chicken would be quick. It was awkward, but bringing Shelly in had gone fairly easily. Maybe we could bring in another one or two more skips that day.
"Why are we just sittin' here?" Johnny questioned. "Are you okay? You look kinda pale. Maybe we should hit up the deli. I didn't eat nothin' yet today."
"Let's get chicken. Do you like chicken?" I asked.
My stomach growled loudly at the thought of food. Leaning forward, I grimaced and pressed on my stomach to quiet the rumbling. Sometimes that would quiet my intestinal beast, but today the pressure just provoked it. The next hunger pang resembled a squeaky door that climbed all the way up my throat. Groaning at the noise, Johnny took it to mean something else.
"Damn it, you're mad. Aren't you? Jeez, what a schmuck I am."
"Huh?" I turned my head in his direction. Mad? What the hell was he talking about?
"Look, sweetie, I never woulda asked Red out in front of you if I knew you were the jealous type." He released a long breath out of his nose. "Now I know why you don't want me to talk to the skips. I felt a connection between us when we first met in the office. It's a curse the way chicks can sense my raging pheromones. I wish I could just turn 'em off. My aunt always said they would get me in trouble with the ladies."
It's your mouth that gets you into trouble, idiot. All I'd felt back at the office had been nausea. What a moron.
I feigned a smile. "No, that's not it. I think I'm just hungry."
"Don't be embarrassed about it. I really didn't mean to hurt you. You're probably all worked up after seeing me put the moves on that Chrissy chick too. Well, I already asked her out, and she said no if it makes you feel any better. Washing her hair or some bullshit like that."
He slicked back his hair in frustration and put his hand on my back. Apparently, he was trying to comfort me, because he started rubbing my back. I didn't need comforting. I needed food before I became even more irritable. I hoped my shirt wasn't covered with the oil from his hand. Dawn dish soap got grease out, right?
"My thumb visual this morning probably had you creamin' in your jeans. You gotta be feelin' pretty frustrated sexually right now," he added, and I lost my appetite.
"Please stop," I pleaded.
I stole a quick glance at the anger-meter in his pants to see if he could sense my frustration was anything but sexual right then. Nope, nothing had protruded. He must've thought I was genuinely jealous and upset.
"Tell you what, let's go back to your place, and I'll throw one into you before we go back to the office. I'd take you back to my place, but it's a real shit-hole. I mean, it's got a waterbed and all, so it's got a little class. Only, I'm not sure they're up on their housekeeping. Couple nights ago, I lost a sock. I was digging around the side of the mattress and pulled out a band-aid."
He paused for a few beats before continuing, "Plus, the walls are paper thin. Are you a screamer?"
"Seriously, stop talking," I begged.
"I'll take that as a yes. Can you take the afternoon off? I can get you off in ten or fifteen minutes, but you'll want the rest of the day to recoup."
Good thing my stomach was empty, or the contents would be in my lap right then. I put my elbows on the steering wheel and rubbed my face. I was stuck between screaming and laughing at the absurdity of the situation. I must have made a movement that combined the two, because Johnny moved his hand up and rubbed my shoulder.
"Don't cry, Cupcake. I'll cancel with the little carrot-top if it makes you feel better."
That did it. I was so mad, I was shaking. Him calling me sugar buns, apple bottom and whatever else he'd said, I could handle. But Cupcake had definitely crossed the line. My gears shifted from anger to fury before locking into rage.
"Don't. Ever. Call. Me. Cupcake! Only Joe, my boyfriend, the cop, who you just met inside, gets to call me Cupcake, you dumbass!"
"Okay, okay!" He held his hands up in a truce gesture. "Jesus, you don't have to get all bitchy about it. What? Are you on the rag or somethin'? If that's the case, we'll just put a towel down and―"
"AAAHHHHHHH!"
Johnny cupped his hands to his head during my ear-piercing scream.
Squealing the tires out of the lot, I raced back toward the bonds office. Johnny fumbled with his seat belt and braced himself against the dash. I didn't care if Eddie gave me ten tickets for all the red lights I ran. After slamming the car in park, daggers shot from my eyes at Johnny. Rapidly and with increasing volume, I yelled, "Get out! Get out! Get out!"
He just sat there and gave me a puppy dog face.
"So... I take it we're not going back to your place?"