The Bright Side (Rojo 2nd Generation: Rojo Police Department #2)

1.

J ANIS

“How was your shift last night?” I asked my friend Marley as she perched on the stool I kept in the kitchen just for her. I took a sip of my coffee before I asked, “Are you done with your shift, or is this your lunch break? I can never keep your schedule straight. It’s so weird to think of someone’s lunch hour being at four in the morning.”

“I can barely keep it straight, and it’s my life,” Marley complained before she tore apart a muffin that I’d just taken out of the oven. She held the plate up to her face and inhaled before she said, “I still can’t figure out what kind this might be, and it’s killing me to wait to taste it.”

“Please tell me you learned your lesson last time . . . and the time before that . . . and the time before that.”

Marley flipped me off before she picked up a muffin piece and blew on it for a second before she put it in her mouth. She did that funny breathing that always happened when the bite she’d taken was too hot and then moaned as her eyes closed and her head fell back in bliss. Through a mouthful of white chocolate cranberry macadamia muffin, she said, “Best. Shit. Ever.”

“You say that about everything. That’s the only reason I put up with you mooching food off me six days a week.”

“I’d come seven, but you’re closed on Sundays,” Marley said before she blew on another bite. “Fuck, this is delicious, Janis. It’s gonna be a hit.”

“Let’s hope so because I’m planning on making it the Flavor of the Week soon. I think I need to tweak it just a bit more before . . .”

Marley shook her head, and with her mouth full again said, “Don’t change a thing!”

“We’ll see,” I allowed.

So far, Marley loved it as did my friends Jonas and Lawson, twins that I’d known my entire life that were like brothers to me. Outsiders likely thought we had nothing in common, but we did and shared almost everything with each other. I trusted both of them implicitly, and even though they were as different as night and day, in both looks and temperament, they trusted me in the same way.

Since the three judges I consistently relied on to be my first line of critique thought the new recipe was a hit, I decided it was ready for the final boss match. I made a mental note to call my dad to have him drop by to try it out whenever he had the chance. My father was great - loving, understanding, supportive, stern when he needed to be, and a big softie when he didn’t, and he had never once lied to me, no matter how much he knew the truth may hurt.

If my dad tasted this recipe and told me it was perfect, then I’d put it on the menu. If he told me that it needed work, I’d listen to his opinion and take his suggestions to heart when I tried the recipe again. Only after it got the Hank Grissom stamp of approval would a new item grace my menu. I held my dad’s opinion above all else because he’d taught me everything I knew about baking, cooking, and damn near every other skill I’d mastered in my life.

My mom was just as wonderful, although very different in attitude and demeanor than my father. I knew that was why they made such a great team and a wonderful couple. My parents had the kind of love that most people could only dream about - and I wouldn’t settle for less, even if it meant that I might just end up alone.

Not that I had men beating down my door right now . . . or ever. That probably had something to do with my attitude, but if a man couldn’t take a little sass, then he wasn’t the man for me.

Of course, that stance didn’t exactly help when I was meeting someone new - male or female. It was also the reason my circle of close friends was small. That wasn’t to say that I didn’t have a lot of them - just that there were a select few that I trusted to appreciate me for me and not get offended when I spoke my mind while not being afraid to speak their mind back.

Luckily, Marley was one of those close friends, and I valued her. She was a strong, opinionated woman, too, and paid the price for it. When we got together and had too much to drink, we often ended up commiserating about that. Those conversations usually ended one of two ways: we either made a pact to try to be nicer and more open to people or decided that everyone who didn’t like us could fuck off.

Usually, we would agree to be nicer for a few days, maybe a week at most, and then we would revert back to the second choice.

And that was most likely why both of us were still single while it seemed that our friends were dropping like flies - getting into long-term relationships, moving in with the person they’d fallen for, or, in one case, moving all the way across the country. Then came the inevitable marriage and parenting, not always in that order.

As if she’d read my mind, Marley asked, “What are you wearing to Rain and Lucky’s birthday slash engagement shindig?”

I looked up and said, “I’m going to try a new style.”

“You’re going to wear a colored tank top under your flannel?” she asked.

Since that was exactly what I’d been thinking, I frowned and snapped, “It’s new for me.”

“Do you even own clothes that aren’t black or some version of it?”

“Black is black, but I also have dark gray, light gray, medium gray, blue gray, gunmetal, smoky gray . . .”

“I get it! You’re not actually colorblind, you’re just boring.”

“I’ll have you know that the last tank top I ordered was not black or gray.”

“Really? What color is it?”

“Midnight blue,” I muttered.

Marley burst out laughing and asked, “But I bet it looks black, doesn’t it?”

“Fuck off.”

“Can you imagine what the guys would think if you showed up wearing something . . . fashionable?” When I narrowed my eyes, she put a hand up and said, “Down, girl. It was just an idea.”

“I’m perfectly fucking fashionable for my lifestyle.”

“Irritable biker chick who works way too much? Yes. You’ve got that shit down, sister.”

“Alright, fashionista, what do you think the guys would say if I showed up wearing pink or some other nasty as shit color?”

Marley scoffed. “You’d have to change something other than the color of your tank top for any of them to notice. I’m talking about a big change. Something low-cut to flaunt those fantastic boobs of yours or off the shoulder to show off your collarbones. Something . . .”

“Are my shoulders awe-inspiring too?” I asked sarcastically.

“You’re not even willing to listen, Grissom. I don’t know why I even try to talk to you.”

“Because I’m the only one who listens to you without bursting into tears or cowering in a corner with my thumb in my mouth.”

“Generally, that only happens when I’m angry.”

“Which, like me, is all the fucking time.”

“Whatever. I’m serious about the clothes thing, though. Wouldn’t it be cool to shake things up a little?”

“As if anyone would notice.”

“Honestly, I want my brother to notice.”

“For your brother's health and my sanity, the less he notices about me, the better.”

“He doesn’t even think you’re a girl.”

“What?”

“Seriously. I said something the other day about how I wished I had skin like yours, and he looked at me like I was nuts. When I asked him why, he said he’d never paid attention because he couldn’t get past your mouth.” I turned away quickly so that Marley couldn’t see exactly what her words had done to me because I didn’t understand it myself and wasn’t willing to talk about it until I figured it out. She didn’t seem to notice, though, and kept talking. “I wonder if that’s how people see both of us. If that’s how my brother sees you, which is just fine since you absolutely detest each other, is that how other men see us? Is that why we’re still single?”

“You think changing our personal styles would change that?”

“Not really. I think that I need to try to be nicer to the opposite sex, or I’m going to end up some old spinster who dies alone in my house, and no one will take notice until the smell gets too bad.”

“Ew.”

“I went on a call like that the other day. For a few days, the neighbors just thought the smell was the sewer line the city was replacing in the alley, but when it didn’t go away, they realized that they hadn’t seen one of their other neighbors in weeks and called for a welfare check.”

“No way!”

“Totally serious. The detectives examined her phone and found it hadn’t been used in more than three weeks.”

“Oh, shit.”

“That’s what I said right before I puked my guts up on the bushes next to her front door.”

“That is so gross.”

“If you think that’s bad, you should have seen how Lawson reacted.” Abruptly changing the subject, thank God , Marley asked, “Is that one of your custom orders?”

“It’s actually five different orders of half a dozen cookies each. I’ve got six dozen drying in the back right now, but they should be ready for the next step by the time I’m finished with these.”

“That’s a lot of cookies.”

“It’s for a wedding.”

“When I find a man and decide to get married, will you make me custom cookies?”

“By the time that happens, my arthritis will be so bad I won’t be able to hold a piping bag. Besides, I doubt the nursing home would let me use their kitchen.”

“And on that depressing note, I’m out.”

“Glad I could make your day better.”

“Chlamydia would make me feel better about myself than you do.”

“Right back at ya.”

“See you tomorrow!”

“Bye, babe!”

◆◆◆

COREY

“I understand that you’re going to be late to work.”

“I wouldn’t be if you’d just let me go.”

“You wouldn’t be if you left home earlier so you didn’t have to speed through a school zone and put children’s lives in danger!”

The woman sighed and bumped her head against the seat a few times before she sat up straight and yelled, “Entrapment!”

“Excuse me?” I asked as I filled out her ticket, the fifth I’d given her in as many weeks.

“You were sitting there waiting for me, weren’t you?”

“If you must know, I was at the stop sign waiting to turn toward the gas station so I could take a break,” I answered.

I didn’t really need a break. I needed to go to the bathroom, and if this speed demon didn’t stop arguing with me, I was going to whip my dick out and piss on her back tire. Maybe that would wake her ass up and teach her to stop speeding through the school zone where I always seemed to catch her when she was running late. Even if it didn’t curb her behavior, it might shock her so badly that she’d shut up for more than ten seconds.

I held the clipboard out toward her and instructed, “Please sign at the bottom.”

“No.”

“Signing the ticket is not an admission of guilt,” I assured her.

“I’m not getting another ticket.”

“Good. Let this be the last one,” I encouraged, albeit sarcastically.

“My insurance is going to go through the roof.”

Actually, once her insurance found out about how many tickets she’d received from just me alone, not counting the other outstanding citations that I’d found when I ran her plates, they were going to cancel her policy. No doubt about it. However, that was not my problem. Finding a bathroom before I wet myself was about to be a big problem.

“Are you going to sign the ticket?” I asked.

“No.”

I ripped the ticket off the pad and held it out toward her and then went into the spiel I could quote in my sleep about court appearances and the like while I waited for her to take it.

Of course, she wasn’t going to take it just like she hadn’t willingly taken the other ones I’d written her. However, she decided to change things up and hit me with something I’d heard before, but still didn’t shock me any less than it had the first time.

“I’ll give you a blow job if you rip that up.”

I let my head fall forward and sighed before I said, “I would love nothing more than to ignore what you just said, but I can’t do that.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Ma’am, please just take the ticket and don’t say anything else.”

“Okay, fine, so you’re not into girls. You do you, and I’ll give a hundred bucks to rip up that ticket and pretend this never happened.”

“Well, shit,” I muttered to myself. “Keep the car turned off. I’ll be back in a minute.”

I waited until I was almost to my patrol car to hit the button on my shoulder mic and call for not only female backup, but a sergeant too. I had just seen a patrol car crossing the street a few blocks away, so I knew it wouldn’t take long for someone to get here. Whoever showed up was going to laugh their ass off when I told them they’d have to take this woman to the station because I was about to piss my pants.

As I predicted, it only took a minute before backup arrived, and I was happy to see it was my friend Lawson Dean. He took his sweet time getting out of his unit before he moseyed his way over. When he was close enough, he asked, “What did she say?”

“First, she offered me a blow job if I’d rip up the ticket. When that didn’t work, she offered me a hundred bucks.”

“Really?” Lawson asked as he glanced at the car. “I pulled her over yesterday, and she didn’t say shit. Thank God.”

Another patrol car pulled up, and it nearly made me giddy to see it was Sergeant Gonzales, a female officer who also happened to be the person who got to decide whether the woman in the car would get two more tickets or a ride to the station. If that happened, she could also do the frisk and escort the woman for booking, which meant that I might make it to the bathroom sometime in this decade.

Once she approached, I said, “Sarge, I’m gonna be honest here. I’ve got a problem, and it’s not just getting propositioned or attempted bribery.”

“What’s the issue, Forrester?” Sergeant Gonzales asked.

I sighed because I knew Lawson was going to laugh at me, and I hoped with all my heart that Sergeant Gonzales wouldn’t do the same. I said, “I’m floating at DEFCON 5 here. If I don’t find a bathroom soon, I’m gonna have a serious problem.”

Just like I knew he would, Lawson sputtered out a laugh, but luckily, the Sergeant didn’t even crack a smile.

“Isn’t that bakery over there owned by your sister’s friend?”

I looked over my shoulder and realized the sergeant was pointing between two buildings behind us toward the back of Janis Grissom’s bakery before I said, “Yes, it is.”

“I’ll get started on her while you walk over to relieve yourself.”

“Thanks. I’ll be right back.”

I had just turned around when the sergeant asked, “What’s the official charge?”

“Speeding. Eighteen over the limit in a school zone. Solicitation along with bribery.”

“Solicitation?”

“Blow job,” I said with a groan. “Then she offered me a hundred dollars.”

“Wow. She sounds like a winner,” the sergeant said angrily. She looked at the camera clipped to the front of my shirt and smiled before she said, “Looks like she’s batting a thousand this morning.”

“Do you want me to ticket her or . . .”

“I’m going to arrest her,” Sergeant Gonzales declared. “Don’t take too long, Forrester. I’m gonna need to get a statement from you before transport.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Hey, while you’re in there, could you get me a red velvet cupcake? It’s my son’s birthday, and I’m going to have lunch with him at school.”

“Of course,” I said with a grin. “One red velvet cupcake coming up.”

“You think you can swing that?” Lawson asked, knowing how much Janis Grissom and I detested each other, something that had been going on so long that I forgot how it started, if I’d even ever known.

“How hard is it to get a cupcake?” the sergeant asked. She made a shooing motion with her hand before she said, “Hurry up, Forrester. I don’t want to be here all day.”

I didn’t reply because I was trying to figure out how I could get Janis to let me inside, use her bathroom, and then actually allow me to buy something from her, none of which she would be happy about. I steeled myself for a fight as I knocked on the back door of her bakery.

Janis’s bright blue eyes met mine as the door opened a crack. I was shocked when the door swung all the way open and she stepped aside to let me in.

“To what do I owe this visit, officer?”

I wasn’t willing to look a gift horse in the mouth, especially since that horse was Janis, and I asked, “Can I use your restroom and then buy a red velvet cupcake to go?”

Janis narrowed her eyes before she asked, “How bad do you need to pee?”

“I'll pee behind the dumpster if I have to, but I need that cupcake.”

“What’s in it for me?”

“I’ll hate you less for an entire day.”

“That’s not good enough.”

“Fuck it,” I mumbled as I walked past her into what appeared to be a stockroom. I looked around before I asked, “Do you have a bathroom back here or . . .”

My voice trailed off when I spotted the small sign, and I blocked out whatever Janis was saying as I hurried that way. It seemed to take forever, but I finally finished and washed my hands before I walked out.

I was surprised to see Janis in the middle of the room, holding a clear plastic box containing a huge white-iced cupcake. When she smiled at me, I stopped walking and asked, “You didn’t do anything to it, did you?”

“No.”

“Seriously. It’s for my sergeant’s kid. It’s his birthday.”

“What’s his name? I’ll personalize it.”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. I raised my eyebrows and asked, “You really didn’t do anything to it?”

“Of course, I fucking didn’t, Donut! This is a business, and I have a reputation to uphold. This cupcake is just as pristine as the other ones in the case.” She held it out toward me, and I took it gingerly as if I was waiting for it to explode, something else I wouldn’t put past her.

“How much do I owe you?”

“It’s on the house.”

“Are you feeling okay? What’s wrong with you?” I asked in confusion.

“Other than the fact that I’m standing here looking at you? Nothing. Why?”

“You’re being almost nice. Reasonable, even. What gives?”

Janis took a deep breath and then exhaled slowly before she gave me an obviously fake smile and said, “Be safe out there, officer. I’m glad I could help.”

I kept my eye on Janis as I made my way toward the back door and then glanced over my shoulder to make sure she hadn’t armed herself and taken aim as I walked out. When I heard the door lock behind me, I shook off the confusion that encounter had caused and rushed back toward the street when I heard a woman’s angry shout.

Apparently, the speed demon had just found out how illegal it was to proposition an officer, and I couldn’t wait to watch the show. I decided to chalk Janis’ behavior up to some sort of weather anomaly, or maybe a terminal illness. Whatever was wrong with her wasn’t my problem.

Thank God.