gangs—you know this stuff goes hand in hand. She’s had her feet in both trenches. Why didn’t I think of her before?” he said excitedly. “Officer Knight!”
“Jayme?” Detective Max grimaced, perplexed. “She? I...I guess but...”
“No, trust me on this. You don’t know her as well as I do.” He smiled, his hand on his hip. “I have no idea why I didn’t think of her first...maybe because I was thinking of the men...” He bit his fingernail nervously. “Tell him…tell him we’ve got someone.” He pointed at Max.
Max nodded and pushed the ‘talk’ button on the phone, then stood up from his chair. “Sorry about that, Agent Peterson. Um, yes, we have decided on an officer we are certain will be of great service to your investigation. Her name is Officer Knight. She is a native of Washington DC and has been assisting with undercover stings in prostitution and narcotics for quite some time. She has an exemplary record, been with us since she was twenty-two years of age and is one of our best.” He rocked on his heels, shooting Jasper occasional skeptical glances.
“Uh huh, I see, well yes...okay, definitely. I will have her contact you first thing in the morning.” Max disconnected and sat back down in the chair. Jasper followed suit. Both men just stared at each other for quite some time.
“Well hell, Jasper! Call her for God’s sake!”
****
Jayme cackled as her friend shook her head in disbelief.
“Damn fools.” She grinned. “My feet are killing me.”
“I bet they are…what are those, eight inch stilettos?” Wanda asked as she set her empty wine glass on the black coffee table in Jayme’s modernly decorated apartment.
Jayme rolled her eyes and laughed. “Like that’s even humanly possible. They are six, but that’s still bad. My grandmother would roll over in her grave if she knew I was working a stripper pole.” She grinned. “I used to love this, I really did. It was exciting, you know? And don’t get me wrong,” she shrugged and kicked her shoes off, “I do still love it...but I can’t help but think there has to be more. I have aspirations, I want to climb up the ladder...maybe Sargent one day or even better, Lieutenant.”
Wanda nodded. They’d met at the police academy and became fast friends but after five years, Wanda had had enough and left to go back to school for nursing.
“You already know I understand where you’re coming from.” She shook her head. “You’ve got that ‘it’ factor though, Jayme. I just wasn’t cut out for it...all the domestic violence calls we went out on. I wanted to help, it just became too much. But you?” She pointed at her friend. “You were born for this.”
Jayme smiled, feeling warm and appreciated for a change. That was her struggle. She didn’t do the gritty work for the pats on the back; she did it because she wanted to serve her community and that was what she constantly told friends and family. Yet, even more than that, she was a closet adrenaline junky and now, it was simply becoming run of the mill. She’d had her fill of pussy retail. It was a never ending cycle. She’d bust the johns. They’d beg for their wives to not find out, maybe even their parishioners. She’d bust the girls, they’d be right back out on the street a day or two later. She’d bust the pimps, and unless they had drugs or a weapon on them, they’d be out in a week or two, max. She was good at what she did, but being good and being satisfied were two different things.
She stood and walked into her kitchen, grabbed the half-empty bottle of red wine off the counter and poured it into her glass, watching the liquor fill up a bit higher than she’d planned. But she didn’t share; she simply gulped it down as if it were merely grape juice.
“Do you want another glass?” she asked after guzzling, her taste buds still soaked in the intoxicating sweetness. She raised the simply designed black and white bottle and playfully
“Jayme?” Detective Max grimaced, perplexed. “She? I...I guess but...”
“No, trust me on this. You don’t know her as well as I do.” He smiled, his hand on his hip. “I have no idea why I didn’t think of her first...maybe because I was thinking of the men...” He bit his fingernail nervously. “Tell him…tell him we’ve got someone.” He pointed at Max.
Max nodded and pushed the ‘talk’ button on the phone, then stood up from his chair. “Sorry about that, Agent Peterson. Um, yes, we have decided on an officer we are certain will be of great service to your investigation. Her name is Officer Knight. She is a native of Washington DC and has been assisting with undercover stings in prostitution and narcotics for quite some time. She has an exemplary record, been with us since she was twenty-two years of age and is one of our best.” He rocked on his heels, shooting Jasper occasional skeptical glances.
“Uh huh, I see, well yes...okay, definitely. I will have her contact you first thing in the morning.” Max disconnected and sat back down in the chair. Jasper followed suit. Both men just stared at each other for quite some time.
“Well hell, Jasper! Call her for God’s sake!”
****
Jayme cackled as her friend shook her head in disbelief.
“Damn fools.” She grinned. “My feet are killing me.”
“I bet they are…what are those, eight inch stilettos?” Wanda asked as she set her empty wine glass on the black coffee table in Jayme’s modernly decorated apartment.
Jayme rolled her eyes and laughed. “Like that’s even humanly possible. They are six, but that’s still bad. My grandmother would roll over in her grave if she knew I was working a stripper pole.” She grinned. “I used to love this, I really did. It was exciting, you know? And don’t get me wrong,” she shrugged and kicked her shoes off, “I do still love it...but I can’t help but think there has to be more. I have aspirations, I want to climb up the ladder...maybe Sargent one day or even better, Lieutenant.”
Wanda nodded. They’d met at the police academy and became fast friends but after five years, Wanda had had enough and left to go back to school for nursing.
“You already know I understand where you’re coming from.” She shook her head. “You’ve got that ‘it’ factor though, Jayme. I just wasn’t cut out for it...all the domestic violence calls we went out on. I wanted to help, it just became too much. But you?” She pointed at her friend. “You were born for this.”
Jayme smiled, feeling warm and appreciated for a change. That was her struggle. She didn’t do the gritty work for the pats on the back; she did it because she wanted to serve her community and that was what she constantly told friends and family. Yet, even more than that, she was a closet adrenaline junky and now, it was simply becoming run of the mill. She’d had her fill of pussy retail. It was a never ending cycle. She’d bust the johns. They’d beg for their wives to not find out, maybe even their parishioners. She’d bust the girls, they’d be right back out on the street a day or two later. She’d bust the pimps, and unless they had drugs or a weapon on them, they’d be out in a week or two, max. She was good at what she did, but being good and being satisfied were two different things.
She stood and walked into her kitchen, grabbed the half-empty bottle of red wine off the counter and poured it into her glass, watching the liquor fill up a bit higher than she’d planned. But she didn’t share; she simply gulped it down as if it were merely grape juice.
“Do you want another glass?” she asked after guzzling, her taste buds still soaked in the intoxicating sweetness. She raised the simply designed black and white bottle and playfully
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