ACT II

I, Elisa Maza, was called out on my public display of affection with an urban legend.

"Answer my question, Detective!" The high-ranking city government official somehow resisted the train's turbulence.

Sure, I was an experienced improviser. But she's heard false words every single day. This longest fucking subway ride wasn't helping. I seriously expected the next stop was in Australia, but the wheels spun in my gray matter. "I wasn't sure what it would to do to us and figured maybe beauty could kill the beast?"

I was always modest about my physical appearance, but Yale raised a disagreeing eyebrow. Hopefully the bitch saw at least one of three existing King Kong films.

"It was about to squish your skull. The stratagem seemed apropos, fortunately for you," she responded.

"Are we finished here?" I so wanted to use profanity.

"Not by a long shot; I'll be watching you," Yale wagged her right index finger in my direction.

Once the train stopped, she and the rest of the passengers rushed to Matt Bluestone, Officer Morgan and Officer Travanti. I sharply exhaled after Yale left, even though her confrontation was somewhat founded. My trenchcoat-clad partner squeezed past the frightened crowd and chivalrously took my hand to break my balls.

"Had a little help on this operation, I see?" He surmised and lightly chuckled.

"Just some concerned citizens with wings," I confirmed.

"Oh Jesus, write some new material." Matt dropped my hand.

"Shut up," I nudged his right bicep.

Morgan and Travanti unhooked the thugs off the train while others gathered Curly. Once everyone left, Matt shined a light at the damage. "How the hell are we gonna spin this?"

"Listen, it was dark and hectic as fuck, so I doubt anyone's footage is credible, but we still can't spin it. An A.D.A. passenger didn't miss a thing." I hung my head

"An A.D.A.? Are you shitting me?" Matt stared at me as if I had Cerberus heads, squinted, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"The gargoyles are no longer muses for our arrest reports," I concluded.

Forensics finished up. We released the train and climbed upstairs to the dawn. Matt drove us to the Twenty-Third Precinct. I was too rattled by Yale, thinking she was right.

We parked in front of the station. I entered the locker room to change out of Sally's frumpy clothes and into my jeans, shirt and red-leather jacket. Since the gargoyles were already sleeping, I approached our adjoined desks where Matt racked his brains over the report. Our boss, Captain Maria Chavez, exited her office from down a long, unobstructed corridor. Matt and I could no longer coordinate when her march ceased beside us.

"Your paperwork can wait. I want you two in my office, stat," she ordered with a poker face and headed back.

Margot's inquisition had me paranoid. An assistant district attorney could readily locate me and call Chavez. Wasn't sure how I'd be disciplined for gargoyle-hugging but that wouldn't matter. Their safety far superseded my issues. The air seemed to have a molasses consistency while we trudged there.

"Have a seat, Detectives. How did your operation fare?" Her fingers lightly interlaced by her mouth behind her desk.

"Three arrests," Matt quickly answered.

"Is this the only reason why you called us in?" I inquired

"No, it isn't, Maza. I'm reassigning you to day shift for a while. I need you to show a new transfer the ropes."

A major significance about Chavez is she had a valid excuse to be an Arctic-cold bitch. She hurdled walls of sexism to captaincy. But with all due and unconditional respect, her bullshit caught me way off guard. Matt and I must've looked like deer in headlights.

"Day shift?" I blurted out with incredulity.

"Aw come on, Captain!" Matt shared the sentiment.

"You're breaking up a great team; better than you know!" I deposited more change in the complaint jar.

"It's only temporary, and it wasn't a request." Chavez said while walking toward the door.

"Well, I just want it on the record that I'm..." I stood to protest vehemently. When she opened the door, there stood a gorgeous man with black hair, a chiseled face, radiant smile and limpid blue eyes. His six feet of height carried all muscle, clothed by a shirt, khakis and a suede jacket. "Uh, well, hi. Elisa Maza"

"Detective Jason Conover; um, nice to meet you." His voice was auditory silk.

"Nice to meet you, too." I giggled then cleared my throat. "Meet my partner, Matt Bluestone."

"No fails around the best partner I ever had, Conover," Matt was rightfully protective, but smirked at me. I made a mental note to slug him.

"Noted," Jason responded.

"Okay, so my car's out front. I'll meet you there in ten?" I eagerly returned attention to Jason.

"I'll be waiting," he said and then exited the room.

I excessively ogled Jason while he left. When Matt poked me, I jolted like Cupid shot me with an arrow. Chavez scowled, crossed her arms and blocked my path.

"Off to a double-shift." I pumped up a fist.

"Yeah, do yourself a favor. Keep it in your pants," she instructed.

Once she let me pass I returned to our locker room to apply makeup, fluff my hair, mouthwash and use deodorant. Then I finally saw Jason at the outside stairway.

"Hi there, Conover," I called out while descending.

"Hi! Where's your unit?" Jason turned around with a glinting smile.

"Right there!" I pointed.

"Why on Earth is your squad car from 1959?" Jason delightfully identified, then paced near its hood.

"She's practically a tank and I like being different." I explained.

"General Motors manufactured only a few of this color." He smoothed his hands on its body.

"The paint job is restored. She's still an original red," I announced.

"Well color me impressed, Detective Maza," He then intensely focused on me.

"Oh, call me Elisa. I insist."

I smiled; maybe blushed. Any negative tension from the last several hours was displaced by sexual tension. I was in deep trouble.

END ACT II