and daisies with her back arched. “Keep going,” she said.
Frank scrolled through the series, until the setting changed. It was Ophelia in a locker room shower, covered in soap. Each photograph was of her sponging the soap away, revealing more and more of her body. The pictures captured her from different angles, even from behind as she crawled across the tile floor. Frank went to the last picture and said, “Very nice.”
“I just got them back from the photographer. Aren’t they awesome?”
“I’m thinking the one in the shower where everyone can see up to your tonsils would make a nice Christmas card. I could hang it on my fridge.”
“Ew, why were you looking so close at it then? I bet you like that one, don’t you.”
Frank laughed and said, “Careful who you show them to. People are weird out here.”
“But you liked them?”
“Yes.”
“That’s it? No smart assed answer?”
Frank opened her car door and said, “I’ll give you a shout tomorrow. Be good, okay?”
***
Halfway through his shift, the car in front of him swerved slightly, going over the double-yellow lines once, twice. A sudden brake, then it began building up speed.
“Son of a bitch,” Frank muttered. The process of elimination began.
I’m the only one working.
But this guy is dangerous.
I’ll follow him out of town and then he’s somebody else’s problem.
And what if he crashes into a car full of kids?
I’m not even supposed to be out here doing this stupid fucking job.
So who is supposed to do it, then?
“Mother fucker,” he shouted as he threw on the overhead lights. The street lit up red and blue all around both cars and the vehicle reared to the right and scraped against the curb, leaving a long black smear of tire marks along the cement.
Frank slammed his door open and stormed forward, banging on the driver’s side window with his fist. “Get out of the car, asshole.”
The driver looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes. The whole car reeked of booze. “Three -six-nine,” he slurred. He tried to reach behind his back, but stopped when Frank shouted at him not to move. “I’m not carrying, officer. I’m on the job. My shield’s back here.”
“You serious? How much did you have?”
“A lot!” he said. “I’m lost brother. I’m so, so lost.”
Frank opened his door and said, “Come on. Get out. I’ll take you home.”
***
The city was quiet and covered over by a fog so thick Frank’s spotlight stopped just past the hood, blocked by a wall of swirling gray. He inched down the street, ready to brake at any moment for whoever wandered in front of his car.
“You a detective?”
Frank nodded, seeing that his passenger was looking at the gold badge pinned to his uniform shirt. “I have to cover the street sometimes. We lost two guys last year and are running really short.”
“That sucks.”
“Losing the guys or covering the street?”
“Both.”
“You’re right.”
“I appreciate you not locking me up. I really do. I’ve got fifteen years on the job. My wife doesn’t work. It’s funny, but you take stuff like health benefits and steady income for granted until the moment you realize you might lose it. I’m not gonna fuck around anymore after tonight. This shit is too important.”
Frank squinted to try and read the street sign above them. “My old man always told me we had to look out for one another. Unfortunately, I haven’t seen much of that since I came on the job.”
“What district was your Pop in?”
“He wasn’t. He grew up here but worked in the county.”
“But still, he was a stand up guy, yeah?”
Frank laughed, “You have no idea.”
“Turn right over here, pal.”
Frank went down the back alley slowly, grimacing at each narrow pass the sides of his car made at open iron gates and diagonally parked cars. The cop still smelled like a brewery, but it was
Frank scrolled through the series, until the setting changed. It was Ophelia in a locker room shower, covered in soap. Each photograph was of her sponging the soap away, revealing more and more of her body. The pictures captured her from different angles, even from behind as she crawled across the tile floor. Frank went to the last picture and said, “Very nice.”
“I just got them back from the photographer. Aren’t they awesome?”
“I’m thinking the one in the shower where everyone can see up to your tonsils would make a nice Christmas card. I could hang it on my fridge.”
“Ew, why were you looking so close at it then? I bet you like that one, don’t you.”
Frank laughed and said, “Careful who you show them to. People are weird out here.”
“But you liked them?”
“Yes.”
“That’s it? No smart assed answer?”
Frank opened her car door and said, “I’ll give you a shout tomorrow. Be good, okay?”
***
Halfway through his shift, the car in front of him swerved slightly, going over the double-yellow lines once, twice. A sudden brake, then it began building up speed.
“Son of a bitch,” Frank muttered. The process of elimination began.
I’m the only one working.
But this guy is dangerous.
I’ll follow him out of town and then he’s somebody else’s problem.
And what if he crashes into a car full of kids?
I’m not even supposed to be out here doing this stupid fucking job.
So who is supposed to do it, then?
“Mother fucker,” he shouted as he threw on the overhead lights. The street lit up red and blue all around both cars and the vehicle reared to the right and scraped against the curb, leaving a long black smear of tire marks along the cement.
Frank slammed his door open and stormed forward, banging on the driver’s side window with his fist. “Get out of the car, asshole.”
The driver looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes. The whole car reeked of booze. “Three -six-nine,” he slurred. He tried to reach behind his back, but stopped when Frank shouted at him not to move. “I’m not carrying, officer. I’m on the job. My shield’s back here.”
“You serious? How much did you have?”
“A lot!” he said. “I’m lost brother. I’m so, so lost.”
Frank opened his door and said, “Come on. Get out. I’ll take you home.”
***
The city was quiet and covered over by a fog so thick Frank’s spotlight stopped just past the hood, blocked by a wall of swirling gray. He inched down the street, ready to brake at any moment for whoever wandered in front of his car.
“You a detective?”
Frank nodded, seeing that his passenger was looking at the gold badge pinned to his uniform shirt. “I have to cover the street sometimes. We lost two guys last year and are running really short.”
“That sucks.”
“Losing the guys or covering the street?”
“Both.”
“You’re right.”
“I appreciate you not locking me up. I really do. I’ve got fifteen years on the job. My wife doesn’t work. It’s funny, but you take stuff like health benefits and steady income for granted until the moment you realize you might lose it. I’m not gonna fuck around anymore after tonight. This shit is too important.”
Frank squinted to try and read the street sign above them. “My old man always told me we had to look out for one another. Unfortunately, I haven’t seen much of that since I came on the job.”
“What district was your Pop in?”
“He wasn’t. He grew up here but worked in the county.”
“But still, he was a stand up guy, yeah?”
Frank laughed, “You have no idea.”
“Turn right over here, pal.”
Frank went down the back alley slowly, grimacing at each narrow pass the sides of his car made at open iron gates and diagonally parked cars. The cop still smelled like a brewery, but it was
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