Chapter 1 #2
She taps an orange fingernail against her glass.
“With that tramp who’s currently drying Marsha’s eyes.
” The bride lets loose another howl while the blonde bridesmaid pats her shoulder.
“I gave them both a chance to confess and call the wedding off, but they wanted to have their cake and eat it. Oh!” She draws her gaze from her sister to me with glee.
“I bet there’ll be lots of spare cake after I make them tell everyone the truth. No sense letting that go to waste.”
“Can I suggest you rein in the dog first,” I say to her. “If you’re able to. Then you can box up as much of the cake as you want.”
She winks and sips her Champagne before handing the coupe to me. “Deal. Oh, Pickle!” From inside her bra, she extracts a small bag of dog treats and shakes it. “Auntie Kathy has something for you!”
Immediately, Pickle abandons his tormenting of the groom and comes racing over to the woman beside me.
“You had those the whole time?” the bride shrieks, balling up her fists and stomping her foot. “What the hell is wrong with you, Katherine?”
The sister shrugs, hand-feeding a now happy Pickle, his fluffy little tail wagging furiously. “You shouldn’t have put me in lime-fucking-green. Should you, dear sister?”
“We’re getting a ladder to you now, sir!” Lieutenant Flores calls to the groom, who is still just as stuck as I thought he would be even without being terrorized.
“Why did the dog attack him in the first place?” I ask Kathy.
She scoops the tiny offender up in her arms then takes her Champagne back from me.
“Because I’ve been training him with code words for the past several months whenever I dog-sat for Marsha,” she tells me devilishly.
“Which is all the damn time. He’s more my dog than hers, honestly.
And you’re such a good boy, aren’t you! Yes, you are. Oh, yes, you are.”
Pickle wriggles gleefully and licks the tip of her nose.
As the groom starts slowly climbing down from the tree, a round of applause goes up. But I rub my forehead and wonder if I should just put in a call now to Captain Padilla over at Redwood Bay Police before things escalate any further.
Our work here is done, though. At least for the time being. And maybe it’s uncharitable of me, but I feel like whatever happens next is probably going to be deserved for all parties involved.
Still, I radio dispatch and give them a heads up to put nearby patrol on alert anyway.
“Do you really think we should be leaving?” our head paramedic, Zahir Delacroix, murmurs to me as the One-Thirteen start making their way back to the rigs.
“I’d feel better if we gave the bride some oxygen, at least,” his partner, Yara Ortiz, agrees, looking back worriedly. Several people are trying to fix a hiccuping Marsha’s make-up while the groomsmen jeer and slap Chad on the back.
Kathy is glaring triumphantly at the panicked-looking groom. Pickle’s lip curls menacingly in his direction.
“Let’s hang around the parking lot for a minute,” I say wearily, turning away from the increasingly volatile situation. “We’ll probably be called back soon enough.”
I know I’m jaded, but the whole scene leaves me feeling hollow.
Is this what romance looks like nowadays?
I know that several members of the One-Thirteen have recently fallen in love, and I want to believe it’s the forever kind.
That they’re working toward a future which means something.
Not a superficial farce like we just witnessed.
Seeing so much lying, cheating, manipulation, and ill-will doesn’t do my own faith in love any good, or general faith in humanity, for that matter. Lately, it seems to me like good people have no luck, and terrible people with no morals get away with everything.
Well, perhaps not today if Kathy has her way. Although I’m not sure I entirely approve of her methods, either.
My heart is heavy. Redwood Bay might not be a big city, but we still see our share of tragedy.
Since I lost my pops after such a long, hard battle with cancer, it doesn’t feel like whimsy or joy are within my reach anymore.
I’ve forgotten who I am other than a son and a carer.
Now I’m no longer either, the sorrow I’m left with is clouding my judgment.
Maybe I should have requested more time off after the funeral.
I have every confidence that Rico Flores would be able to hold down the fort.
But he’s been going through enough in his personal life over the last several months and I didn’t want to add to his burdens, even if he looks to be on the other side of his troubles now.
What about your burdens? a voice in the back of my head asks.
That’s my job, though. I’m the captain, and carrying more of the weight on my shoulders is what I signed up for. Work will keep me busy.
Besides, what else have I got to occupy my time? One way or another, I’ve centered the last ten years of my life around caring for my parents, and now they’re gone.
The void they’ve left behind terrifies me.
So it doesn’t matter how many infuriating calls we take or how low my regard for the human race drops. This is all I’ve got, and the One-Thirteen needs me.
“YOU DID WHAT?” The bride’s voice pierces the air all the way over in the parking lot.
I wince. “There it is.” I hold my hand up and circle my finger, indicating to my baffled team that we should turn back. “Time for round two. You might want to bring some ear plugs.” I glance at the paramedics. “And plenty of Band-Aids.”
“Are you expecting a fight?” Del asks with a crooked eyebrow as we start hurrying back to the increasingly distressed-sounding wedding party.
“I’m expecting the worst,” I tell him.
When aren’t I these days?