Archer
ARCHER
“ Y ou’re dismissed.” Lieutenant Fabian stands at the head of the boardroom and nods to release twenty of his detectives before the holiday officially begins. As one, we all move. Chairs scrape against the linoleum floor. Cops chatter. Partners turn to each other. And most everyone rubs their belly in anticipation of what’s to come.
“I’m so fuckin’ hungry.” Fletch’s shoulders brush mine as he grabs his coat from the back of his chair and slips his arms into the sleeves. Turning, he hobbles and hisses about the leg wound he’s supposed to be resting. “Mia and I have big plans tonight that revolve around bad food, a movie marathon, and chilling the fuck out.”
“That’s basically what Mayet and I are doing.” I snag my coat and head toward the boardroom door, beating the crowd, but waiting for Fletch to limp his way closer. We start for the escalators, slower than I’d like. But he’s still Fletch, and Fletch has a toxic need to be at work and keep up, despite the injuries he sustains. “We’re ordering in and enjoying the quiet,” I explain. “I’ve waited weeks for this.”
“Did Aubs call you a thousand times to try to force a big family thing?” He fixes the collar of his jacket and rubs his leg as I glance back. “She’s all about family, and to her, family doesn’t mean two people all alone. She’s one of eight siblings, so?—”
“So she thinks every event has to include fifty people and oodles of noise. I know she’s up Minka’s ass about it. But we made a pact.”
“You and Aubree?”
I step off the escalator at the bottom, my eyes set on the doors that lead onto the street outside. Freedom. My wife draped in silk and straps and absolutely nothing else. “Me and Minka, dipshit. We’re both aware of Aubree’s need for people. We knew she’d try to organize something else. So Minka and I made a pact to decline every single invitation, ship my brother out, ignore every phone call Felix attempts to make, and thank Tim for keeping Cato in the bar for most of the night.”
“You’re going home to get lucky.” He limps out of the station and bounces when a cold snap sprints along the street, whipping his inch long hair up. “Jesus, fuck me sideways.” He digs his hands into his pockets and shivers. “It’s colder than ice out here.”
“Mia at home?”
“Yeah. She and Miss Penny are baking cupcakes at the apartment while they wait for me to get home. Can’t say I envy all the sorry assholes who have to deliver food tonight. It’s freezing.”
“I’ll tip well and feel good for my service.” I wrap my jacket tighter across my chest and huff. “Fuck standing here and chatting. It’s too cold for this shit. You good?”
“Yep.” He turns on his heels, but glances over his shoulder. “I’m good. Penny’s got someone picking her up from my place just as soon as I get there. And me and Mia have cake to devour. I’m done with today.”
“Hey?” I call out when he turns, lifting my chin and waiting for his eyes to come back to mine. “Happy Thanksgiving. First one we’ve not spent together since we met.”
He grins and brings his hand up to scratch the stubble on his jaw. “Feels strange. Before now, we would normally pick a bar, pick a chick, and fuck away our evening the best way we knew how.”
“I picked my chick,” I chuckle. “She’s at home waiting for me. And believe it or not, but eating cupcakes with a four-year-old and watching Christmas movies is far superior to the risk of gonorrhea with whatever random hookup you would have chosen. We’re family men now, Fletch. It’s okay that things change.”
“This year looks a hell of a lot different than last year. And next year will probably be different again.”
“Change is good. It means we’re growing.” I step his way and clap his shoulder. “My door is open if you and Mia wanna come over though, okay?”
“Yeah?” Curious, he pulls back to search my eyes. “What about the pact you made with Delicious?”
“I need an hour to make good on that,” I smirk, “then she won’t care who is in our space, anyway.”
“Bastard.” Chuckling, he turns and walks away. “Smug motherfucker. Not everyone is married to their forever, ya know? Not everyone can go home and get laid like you are.”
“Maybe next year,” I joke. “Fifi will be your friend again eventually, right?”
He glances back and burns me with a glare.
“No?” Laughing, I spin and start toward home. But of course, my phone buzzes in my pocket and it’s not Minka Mayet’s patented ringtone. Which means I know who is trying to horn in on my life despite repeated requests not to. Sighing, I dig the device out and confirm my suspicions with a fast glance at the screen. Finally, I swipe to answer and bring the phone to my ear. “No, Felix. Whatever you want, the answer is no.”
“You’re mean and rude and put simply, not a team player. What happened to the kid who used to scream loyalty back in the day?”
“I was eight, and I couldn’t even spell the word yet.” I hunch into my coat and drop my head to combat the cold. “Now my loyalty is with my wife, just as yours is, or at least, should be, with Christabelle.”
“It is.” He sits back somewhere, comfortably reclining in his chair. “Doesn’t mean I can’t love you, too. Wanna do Thanksgiving dinner? Get on the plane now and head over.”
“Nope. Mayet and I have plans. But we’ll see you in a week for your wedding.”
“A week is too far away,” he whines. “I want to see you tonight.”
“You won’t see me tonight, no matter what kind of tantrum you throw. I’m not getting on that plane, and even if I did, we’d arrive after midnight. Which means you’re shit out of luck. Next?”
“So then I’ll get on the plane. Get there around eleven your time. Time zones are a thing, bitch, and if you want to play semantics, I’ll win every time.”
“Still no. But buy another turkey and we’ll cook it up next week. Better yet, buy the turkey tomorrow when they’re on sale. You’ll feed us all for cheap. It’ll be a double win on the eve of your wedding.”
“I’ll let you have your Thanksgiving there if you agree to get on the plane tomorrow and spend the week here. A whole week where we can catch up and be a family and not need to save anyone or kill anyone.”
“Nope. I have to work.”
“We have to practice the wedding stuff, !”
“No practice necessary,” I taunt. “I’m a pro. I’ve done it twice. You let her walk, she’s the prettiest one in the room. You say I do. You give her the emerald ring you picked out, and you marry the woman of your dreams. Easy peasy.”
“Tim gave Aubree emeralds. They’re not married.”
“They may as well be,” I snort. “She’s not hooking up with anyone else. She couldn’t, even if she wanted to. So unless she wants a life of celibacy and loneliness, she’ll get on board. Eventually.”
“Pretty sure these new age chicks call that coercion .” He drags the word out, mocking it, though I know deep below the asshole behavior is a man who respects his woman more than he’s ever respected anyone in his life. “They get their panties twisted up about that stuff these days.”
“That’s for Tim to deal with.” I catch the bleat of a horn a block up. And the coming and going of people rushing home. “I’m not coming to dinner tonight, and we can’t spend the week with you. But we’ll fly in on Friday and have twenty-four hours before your nuptials. That’s the best I can offer.”
“And if I come to you?”
I look to the stormy skies and exhale. Though I soften the sound, so my brother doesn’t hear it. “You’ll be sad when Minka and I leave for work every single day and spend no time with you. Stop being so needy; we’ll see you in a week.”
“And tonight?”
“Like I said: we’re busy.” I spot Tim’s neon sign a little over a block away. The signal that calls us home every single day, even in the dark. The snow. Rain. Or homicide cases that plague my sleep. “I’ll talk to you later, Lix.”
“I think you’re being unreasonable,” he grumbles. “Completely rude. We haven’t had Thanksgiving together since Cato was a baby. And it’s not like it was a fun experience back then, considering Tim’s broken arm, your injuries, and the general fucking fact we’d watched another woman’s murder in cold blood.”
“You need a therapist, not a turkey.” I dig my free hand as deep into my pocket as I can manage. Because my fingers ache from the cold and my chest hurts for the same reason. “I’m hanging up, because I’m freezing out here. But I’ll call you tomorrow and talk about next week.”
“I’m disappointed with your attitude, . I expected better from you.”
“Mmhmm. So shoot me. Tim the Second would.”
“Tim the Second did. I’m packing my pistols and heading over.”
I laugh and pick up my pace. “Don’t bother. My doors will be locked, and if you wake me up in the middle of the night, you’ll be blowing up a sex doll and standing it where I’m supposed to be at your wedding. No way my ass is getting on a plane if you’re a dick today.”
“—”
“Byeeeeeeee.” I drag the phone from my ear and end the call with a stupid grin rolling across my lips. Because I love him. Strangely, against my better judgement, I do. My life is better with him in it. But he wants full-time codependence, and I just want… part time companionship.
Same thing in the end, just varying degrees of intensity.
Glancing down again and unlocking my phone, I jump to the text chat and open my last conversation with Minka. I drop a rock into her inbox, since we’re still doing that, then I quickly type,
I’m coming for you, Mayet. Legs open. Eyes closed. I’m gonna make it hurt and then you’re gonna thank me for it.
Hitting send, I glimpse a shiny stone on the sidewalk and stop to look down at it. It’s no bigger than a quarter, but with smooth sides and glittering white speckles scattered throughout the black exterior.
Bending, I scoop it up and bounce it in my palm, then I start walking again, grinning as I dig my hand into my pocket.
Minka gets two gifts tonight.