Chapter Twenty-Eight
Covering for Grease had really shot me in the ass. Three days later… A disciplinary meeting with my superiors, a warning about my future conduct, and another ‘anger management’ session were all in order after the sex attacker got a boo boo, and it all became about him.
I was really trying to be a good police officer, and do the job right, and all that shit, but I was supremely pissed off that a man could attack a woman, and somehow she’s in trouble for defending herself.
I mean, okay, did Grease go overboard, and hospitalise the bastard, yes, as it turns out, he did. That’s because when you crack someone’s rib, and they move wrong and it punctures their lung, they need medical treatment, but that wasn’t my fault, or Grease’s.
Let’s not forget the important fact here. The fucker tried to rape me. He followed me out of a bar, knowing I wasn’t fully myself because of alcohol, and he dragged me into an alley to try and force himself on me.
If Grease hadn’t shown up, this would be a very different situation.
It’d be rape charges, and my word against his, and guess what…
female police officers get no special treatment in those situations.
It still has to be proven, and he still has a right to legal support, and the woman still gets made out to be a slut, and all that crap.
My way of thanking Grease, for saving me, and for looking after me, was to kick him out of my house. No wonder I couldn’t seem to find a guy who’d put up with me. Who’d return for that?
“You’re dwelling, Jay. Just drink your coffee, and let’s go drive around and find some trouble to get into.” I knew Alex was trying to cheer me up, but I wasn’t dwelling, I was swallowing down my anger, so I could prevent any further outbursts and more trouble.
“Yeah, let’s go find some more men committing crimes, who then get to cry about it after the fact, and get us in trouble.”
He groaned, leading me out of the coffee shop, and opening my door so I could get into the car.
“I thought I was driving today,” I protested, and he ignored me, closing my door and coming around to get in behind the wheel.
“Yeah, I figured I’d save dying for another day.
Look, Jay, I get it, it’s fucking ridiculous that the bastard is getting pandered to, but you went overboard.
” He lifted both hands as I opened my mouth to yell at him, but my words didn’t come.
I just sipped my coffee instead. He didn’t get one, by the way, he just took me there and bought me one, because he knew I was feeling like hell.
“I’m not saying he didn’t deserve it, just, you don’t need more complaints like this. I mean, you handed the fucker his ass. I was impressed actually. He was bigger than you and…” he trailed off, and I stayed silent, but something told me he’d just figured it out.
“It wasn’t you, was it?”
I focused on my coffee, and on not answering his question, because if I’d covered for Grease for this long, what would be the point of dropping him in the shit now?
“That biker did it? He saved you?”
Fuck. I huffed out a breath and glared at him.
“What do you want me to say, Alex? I could have been raped, but nobody seems to give a shit about that part. Maybe if I’d been the one with bruises and cuts and stuff, it’d sell my ‘story’, right?”
“I’m not denying what could have happened. That biker followed you too, though.”
I nodded. “Yeah, because he didn’t think I was safe with that fucker out there, and he was right, wasn’t he?”
Alex started the car, pulling out into traffic, and heading us around our usual loop, to keep an eye out for trouble, while we waited for a call.
“You’re covering for him. You’re taking the heat for a biker. A guy you hate.” He wasn’t asking, and I could tell he wasn’t buying it either. I mean, I could hardly say I hated Grease now, could I? I wasn’t even sure where my feelings were heading, but definitely away from hate at this point.
“Jesus, Jay, are you fucking this guy?” I gasped, outrage filling me, despite the fact that he was getting it way faster than I’d wanted him to.
“How fucking dare you!? That’s none of your business, Alex. I know we’re trying to be friends as well as partners now, but that’s not the kind of stuff we’ll talk about. I don’t care who you’re doing, and you stay out of my love life too.”
He groaned, keeping his eyes on the road.
“And in all those words, you didn’t fucking deny it.”
“I shouldn’t have to. I shouldn’t have to explain a damn thing to you, Evers. Don’t forget that you have no right to know these things about me.”
He pulled into a supermarket car park, and turned to face me in his seat, handbrake on and engine off.
“Look, I’m not trying to be your bestie or something, and know all your fucking personal secrets, but we’re talking about a criminal here.
We’re talking about you getting in too deep with a biker club, the very biker club that you were so desperate to take down, or doesn’t that matter now you’re riding one of them? ”
My hand lifted, and I don’t know what the hell it did that for. Was I going to gesture? Slap him? I froze and took a deep breath, but I could see that he realised I was losing my shit here.
“Jay, I care,” he said softly, offering me a gentle smile, “and I’m worried.
I mean, maybe he’s not all bad, but if you’re in a relationship with him, it’s going to cause problems for you.
You can’t be a police officer, actively investigating his club, and be his girl, all at the same time.
You see that, right? You see that both things can’t exist at the same time.
Either you’re a police officer, and know where the line is, or you’re getting in over your head, with someone who’s going to destroy your career. Is he really worth the risk?”
Is he? Isn’t he? I had no idea, and was I really in too deep?
Sure, I’d been intimate with him twice, and those were the most mind blowing sexual experiences of my life, but wasn’t it just that, and nothing more?
Three days had passed without a word between us.
I hadn’t reached out, but neither had he.
Was I potentially risking my career for someone who’d already moved on and was fucking someone else?
“I…”
“Jay, I’m not saying you owe me answers here.
You owe them to yourself though, because you worked hard to build a reputation, and you’re trying to move up in the ranks.
Being with a guy like him isn’t going to help any of that.
Are you willing to throw your life’s work away, your entire career and future away, for a man who may only be a short term thing? ”
That was the point, wasn’t it? Even if Grease and I liked each other, it wasn’t something that could last, was it?
How many times could we screw and then yell at each other, and part again, ignoring each other for days.
It wasn’t a relationship, that was for sure.
It was a fling. A dalliance. Something that scratched an itch for a few days, but that was all.
If it was more, he’d have reached out, or I would have, but instead, radio silence.
He’d probably moved on, and I should too.
“I guess you’re right. I’m not dragging him back into the assault case though. He had my back, and he helped me, and I’m not dropping him in the shit for that. He didn’t have to help me. He didn’t have to risk getting hurt too.”
Alex snorted, turning back around to start the engine again.
“Yeah, big guy like him, I’m sure it was a big fucking risk.” He had a point about that too, didn’t he?
After my shift, I went home, had a shower, and something to eat, and then I sat on the sofa staring at my phone.
I had to do something, say something. If I just blocked him, what was to stop him turning up at my door?
If I just disappeared, he might end up looking me up, or if I ignored him now, and then turned up to investigate, he’d think we were still a thing.
Were we even a thing? Ugh. This was so hard to figure out!
I tapped out a message and stared at it for ages, wondering if this was the best move, or the wrong move, or if it’d do the opposite of what I hoped, and bring him to my door.
Or was that exactly what I wanted? One last naked tango before…
before what? Alex was right. It’s all just too much of a risk.
So what if Grease makes me feel things I’ve never felt before?
Is that any reason to throw away all my hard work?
Especially if for him it’s a five minute wonder.
Getting it on with the police officer and laughing it off later.
Me: I think it’s best if we stay away from each other from now on.
I enjoyed our little fling, but I need to focus on my career.
I’m sure you understand. We’re too different, and probably bad for each other.
Thank you, though, for saving me that night.
I’ll stick to the story there. Goodbye, Grease.
There was no response for ages, and I ended up watching the door nervously, expecting to hear his fist pounding on it, and him demanding to talk to me.
Was I secretly hoping for that? I felt like a bitch for sending it as a text, but if I spoke to him, or even worse, saw him, I’d weaken.
One look at that smirk, and those wicked eyes, and I’d be a mess again, desperate for him.
Finally, agonising minutes or hours later, I got a response. Just one word.
G: Okay.
Okay? What the hell did okay mean? I mean, obviously it means what it means, but in this instance? In this context? Did it mean okay, I’ll stay away? Did it mean okay, I completely agree. Did it mean, okay for now, but I’ll show up when I feel like it, and you’ll swoon like a fucking teenager?
That was the option I was worried about, and probably secretly hoping for, but I had to make a clean break from him, so I blocked his number, and set the phone aside.
Great. Now what would I do with all the other lonely hours of my life?
I’d just thrown away the only potential relationship that would give me someone to spend time with outside of being on shift.