A Kiss To Build A Dream On - Season 2: Bridge

The Devil's Swing - Solo

"Ya know, that's Kenny's problem. I don't have to go around shovelin' his shit," said Dara, grinning from behind her desk.

"Captain, Dara, please. I need your help. We need your help."

Ever since she was a little girl, Dara Lynch had a tic: whenever she was nervous, a smile would always creep on her face. It was something unavoidable; a defense mechanism devised by a mischievous child in order to avoid getting in trouble for some prank or another. As she grew, so did her smile, turning her sweet freckled face into a wicked grin, accompanied by a set of jagged, yellow teeth, courtesy of her habit of chewing ice cubes when bored.

To her, Graham had always been a source of anguish and headache. He was a good soldier, always willing to help, and a blindly obedient person too, but sometimes, he missed the big picture. More than once he had stepped on the Lynch family's toes without meaning to. This was one such time.

"Look. Ya come 'ere, demandin' that I throw ya a hand, but this is your problem. Ya were the one that brought that broad here. Ya deal with it," she said, tapping her index finger on the table for emphasis.

"I get it, but," implored Graham, leaning forward on his seat and putting his hands together in a plea, "this is gonna fuck us in the ass if we don't fix it."

"Us?" mocked Dara, laughing in an ironic, high-pitched voice. "Us? There ain't no 'us' here. Lemme be clear."

Dara stood up, taking a seat on the desk right in front of Graham. There was no subtlety in that move. She wanted to stare him down with all her power.

"The reason I don't go around haulin' contraband is that I'm the boss. The reason you're a flyin' monkey for whatever Kenny wants to do is because you're a grunt. Ya get busted so that we, the head honchos, don't have to. If I decide to play 'hide the trafficked human' with you, I can get busted. I don't wanna get busted. That's gonna fuck us."

Graham shrank in his seat under the weight of Dara's ever-present grin. He couldn't even find a retort. She was absolutely right. At the end of the day, he was her employee.

"So... What should I do?" he asked. For once, Graham was lost on what to do. He now realized that his bright and cheery day was overshadowed by the great cloud of his incompetence. Before he sat a fierce lioness that wouldn't hesitate to throw him under the bus if it meant saving her skin. Her earlier praise meant nothing, merely a bone thrown to keep him content like the mutt he was.

Dara patted him on the head playfully. "Cheer up, Dunne. Why don't ya call Kenny? Or that dumbo that works for him? Donnie? Jimmy?"

Of course! Graham thought. Frankie could help. He stood up quickly, bolting towards the door, but stopped in his tracks before opening the door.

"Thing is, how do I get her out? Marvin already booked her. We can't just waltz her out of here."

"I'll deal with Old Man Winter. You run off now. I don't wanna hear any more of this, got it? I was starting to like ya. Don't fuck it up."

Graham nodded, bolting out of the room. He ran to the bathroom, locking himself in a booth to compose himself. Everything fell on him at once. Emotions swirled inside of him like a whirlwind, pushing him to the edge. He couldn't cry, no matter how much he tried to. It felt like a monster trying to burst out of his chest. He was a disappointment to all the women in his life. His ex-wife, Anna, his boss. Nothing ever went right.

How much time had passed? Graham wasn't sure, but by the time he came out, the earlier hustle of the precinct had died down a notch, with a few officers filling out paperwork or chatting among themselves over a cup of cheap coffee.