Archer
ARCHER
“ M innnnka?” I pull up a seat in the homicide division bullpen, and kicking my feet up, I set them on the edge of my old desk and add to the dents and scuffs I’ve already put there over the years. Fletch’s desk butts up against mine, so we get to see each other all damn day on the odd occasions we actually get to sit. Seems, more often than not, we’re running the Copeland City streets and trying to catch a killer. “You okay?”
“I have to fly to New York.” She cuts straight to the chase—of course she does, she’s Minka friggin’ Mayet, undiagnosed neurodivergent, and driving the struggle bus heading straight to, ‘ I can’t be vulnerable or have feelings ’ town. And right now, this week, for as long as Seraphina Lewis is hurting her feelings, that town is lit up like Vegas at night.
My heart cartwheels when her words register in my mind, an instant gut reaction, as I consider her on the other side of the country without me. But then I remember I can go too. Why the fuck not ?
“I guess I’ll be leaving Wednesday sometime,” she mumbles. “Trial is Thursday.”
“And just to clarify… is this someone else’s trial, or yours? The answer will make it easier for me to plan my wardrobe.”
She scoffs, deep in the back of her throat, so I see in my mind the way she rolls her eyes. “A DV case I ran about eighteen months ago, before I moved to Copeland. Woman is dead, husband shoved her down the stairs in a fit of rage. I kinda figured the case would go away with a deal, but apparently, he changed his mind and wants a jury.”
I cross my ankles and settle in for a chat while Fletcher—Charlie Fletcher, my best friend and partner on the force—thuds into his chair and sets a can of Coke on his desk. Because while Minka is over there dealing with the Fifi Lewis portion of our friendship drama, I’m here handling the Fletcher part. Since he was the asswipe who hurt Fifi’s feelings, which led to her resignation, which led to Minka’s hurt feelings.
Now I have feelings too, though they tend toward, ‘ you’re an asshole, Charlie! Fix what you broke ’.
“Perp didn’t wanna deal?”
“Brand new, terminal cancer diagnosis. He’s gonna be dead within a year, regardless. He wants that year to be in the fresh air, not the gen pop showers.”
“So, trial.” I fold one arm across my chest and draw a deep breath until my lungs expand. “Wednesday?”
“Yep, since I’ll be in the courtroom on Thursday. Lawyers usually like to meet prior to talk it all through. Would it be ridiculous to fly in and out each day instead of staying overnight?”
My sweet, sensitive, feeling bride. “No, Minnnka. It’s not ridiculous to want that. It could be considered erroneous spending. Wasteful, even. Plus, the carbon emissions might upset some folks.”
“Plus, the germs I could contract from constantly being in an airport.”
I snort. “You fly private now, babe. Commercial isn’t safe. But,” I cast a look around as phones bleat incessantly. As cops come and go, some in uniform, some not. Lowering my voice, I murmur, “Why, specifically, do you want to fly home each night? Maybe I can help.”
“You, mostly.” She whispers the words, too ashamed to be loud and vulnerable at the same time. “I don’t want to stay in New York without you. Which, I know, is absurd. I’m a grown ass woman. I spent twenty-seven years alone before you came along. But?—”
“You don’t wanna sleep alone.” If I was with her in person, holed up in our apartment where it’s just us and we’ve locked my freeloading baby brother in the stairwell, I’d pull her against my chest and wrap her up until she stopped second guessing her instincts.
Her wants.
Even if those wants verge on her perceived weakness.
“What if I come with you? I can take time off. We can fly across and pull up at a nice hotel in the city. You can work during the day, and I can visit with Felix and Micah.”
“You wouldn’t want to stay at the house? There’s no way you going to New York and not staying at the house won’t end with Felix throwing a tantrum. He likes it when you’re up his ass, remember?”
Chuckling, I shake my head and ignore my partner’s cranky sneer. “Felix doesn’t get to decide where I stay. He’s my brother, not my god. Besides,” I sink into my chair, like that’ll somehow stop my colleagues from overhearing my words. “We can get a fancy room and consider it a mini honeymoon encore. Whenever you’re not in court, we can be in bed. I wanna fuck you in the state of New York again.”
“Inappropriate conversation for the workplace,” Fletch grumbles. He leans closer and smacks my feet off the desk, sneering when my boots hit the linoleum and my lower back tweaks from the thud. “You probably should run vacation time by your partner before you gallivant across the country with the wife. It’s called manners.”
“And you should mind your fucking mood when talking to me.” I stand and come around to the side of my desk, then perching my ass on the edge, I press my palm to his forehead and shove him back out of my space. “You’re having a sucky month, Charlie. But stepping in on my marriage and messing with my honeymoon isn’t gonna bode well for you.”
He rolls his eyes. “You already had a honeymoon.”
“Yeah. That same honeymoon I saw you and Fifi exit a room,” I taunt. “Alone. Together.” I nod toward his ringing phone and grin. “Get that, won’t you, Boy? It’s noisy and interfering with my private phone call.”
“You’re being mean too.” Minka exhales a breathy sigh and audibly slumps back in her chair. “Everyone here is calling me mean, all because I’m not interested in chit chat on work time. This is who I am, . Why are they surprised I’m being me?”
“Because you’ve been less rigid the last few months. You grew comfortable with your team and started to relax. Then Fletch went and fucked shit up, so now Fifi is leaving. You’re no longer comfortable, and returning to your regular, rigid self is a shock to those who enjoyed the freer version of you.”
She allows silence to hang for a long, loaded beat, only to end with a huff. “What are you? My therapist?”
“People think you’re mean because you’re direct. They’ll be okay. You want me to come to New York with you?”
“Yes,” she answers immediately. Relieved. “It would only be for a couple of days, and the thing you mentioned about honeymoons and hotels intrigues me. This way, neither of us has to be anxious, our carbon footprint remains minimal, and no one gets mad about wasted money.”
“I’ll take care of it.” I peer over when Fletch’s tone turns serious. Businesslike. He rises from his chair, but holds the phone pressed to his ear. “Looks like I gotta run. But I’ll coordinate the plane with Felix and find us someplace nice to stay. Whatever you do,” I add quickly when Fletch hangs up, “Don’t take Lix’s calls. He’s gonna try to convince you to stay at the house the second I tell him we’re headed that way.”
“Yeah, like I’m gonna cry about rejecting his calls. So tragic . How will I survive going a day without your brother in my inbox?”
“Sassy,” I chuckle. “You’re on fire this week, Mayet.” I push up to stand when Fletch taps my shoulder. “I gotta go. But I’ll make the arrangements. Then I’ll come get you this afternoon and take you to dinner. We’ll figure everything out then.”
“You’ve got a case, huh?” She sighs, her breath hitting the mouthpiece until it ricochets into my ear. “I can tell.”
“Yeah, looks like. But we’ll wrap it up and I’ll be free for Wednesday. Hold on to your phone. I might need an M.E. consult before dinner anyway.”
“Alright. Talk to you in a bit.”
“Love you.” I pull the phone from my ear and meet Fletch’s honeycomb stare. “What’ve we got?”
“One dead guy, a handful of rounds emptied in the street, and a whole bunch of fuckin’ mayhem.”
“Goddammit.” I slip my phone into my pocket and snag my jacket off the back of my chair. Then we’re moving, dashing through the bullpen and skidding onto the escalator that brings us through the belly of the building. “Where’s it at?”
“Ninth and Marigold. Ten minutes once we get in the car.” He presses one hand to the rail and turns back to look up at me, since I’m on the step behind. “Mayet okay?”
“She’s mad because Fifi’s leaving. And now she’s gotta fly to New York for some case she worked before moving here. The fact that the trial starts the day before Fifi leaves has pissed her off more.”
“Why?”
“Because she doesn’t wanna miss out on her time with her friend. But she’s completely fucking incapable of saying, ‘ Hey Fifi. I don’t know how to talk about feelings, so I defer to stubborn rigidity instead. I know I’ve made you feel unloved since we met, but deep down in my dark, black heart, my affections for you live. I really don’t want you to leave. Please reconsider.’”
“That’s a lot.” He turns just before we hit the ground level and steps off to make a beeline for the garage. “Has she said much about how Sera’s been acting these last few weeks?”
“Nope. Because Minka’s mean, Fifi is stubborn, and you are the reason everyone is angry.” I catch up and walk by his side, our shoulders brushing as we pass through electric doors that whir out of our way. “I get you’ve got your own stuff going on. What with the junkie ex-wife running off with your money and cough syrup. But you made this mess with Fifi. So now you’ve gotta talk to her yourself if you want to know how she’s been acting .”
He drags a set of keys from his pocket, scowling and giving me his back as he heads straight to the driver’s side. Then he yanks the door open and slides in a single beat before me. “I’ve told her I’m sorry.” He jams the key into the ignition and turns the engine over with a roar. “I’ve sent the prettiest flowers I could afford and begged for a minute of her time. I don’t have the money for a Malone-style grand gesture, and I don’t own a yacht or a private plane. I’m not mafia rich, and as far as she’s concerned, I’m practically fucking dead to her.”
He slams the car into reverse and backs out of our spot, the wheels squealing against smooth concrete and my head hitting the headrest as he drops the gear into drive and floors it out of the garage.
“I was an asshole to her.” He reaches across and flips the button to make lights and sirens come to life. “I was really fucking mean. But she’s not giving me a chance to fix it.”
“Probably because you called her a stuck-up bitch with mommy issues.” I fix my seat belt and glance over at my snarling partner. “Women rarely enjoy being slapped in the face with their traumas.”
“Like I said,” he has the car flying through the street and around idiots who forgot that sirens mean move the fuck out of the way . “I messed up. And I’m the reason everyone hates me. I got it.” He squeezes us between a bus and a streetlamp, steel almost touching steel, if not for about an inch of free air on each side. “You don’t have to tell me what a screw up I am. My own daughter reminds me every fucking day.”
“She calls you a screw up?” I grab the Jesus handle at the top of the doorframe. “With those words?” I laugh. “She’s four!”
“Two women disappeared from her life on the same day, Arch. Her mom and Sera. But she only asks about one of them. Every fucking chance she can get, it’s ‘ Where’s Miss Fifi ?’ ‘ When are we gonna see Fifi again ?’ ‘ Do you think Miss Fifi is gonna visit soon ?’”
“Well… have you told Fifi that Mia’s asking for her? I heard emotional manipulation is the new in thing.”
Unimpressed, he turns and burns me with a glare.
“No?”