Seventeen Crimes

Six

Arm in arm, Dylan and Brie copied the famous Beetles' walk. The lights flickered overhead from street lamps and the bums in the neighborhood were beginning their nightly excursions, but the two kept their heads high as they walked in the choppy, immortal gate to the steps of their apartment building.

"That smells like really good weed," Dylan said, as Brie worked to open the door.

"Yeah. I wonder where its coming from," Brie said, looking around.

She only saw a guy standing on the pavement under the lamp.

"You aren't smoking, are you?" Brie asked, stopping for just a moment, just in case the guy wasn't casing the apartments to break in.

"No," he said. "My dad grows it, though."

"What company?" Dylan asked.

"You wouldn't have heard of it," he said.

"Oh, come on," Dylan said, pulling down the hem of their skirt. "Try me."

Brie tapped their arm. "Try us."

The man looked away from them, his face partly obscured by shadow and the hood of his jacket. He wore either a black or a dark brown; Brie wouldn't be able to describe him to anyone in any concrete detail just by this one interaction.

"It's called 'Glory Road'," he said. "Any way, its not sold here."

"Too bad," Dylan said. They leaned into Brie. "I was looking, and hoping for a nice, smooth one."

"Come on," Brie said. "I think I still have some from the other day. That pot shop in Maryland."

Brie unlocked the door again, and despite the doubts she had of the man's innocents, her training took the better edge of her. She pushed against the door and made sure it was locked.

"Good thinking. He gave me the creeps," Dylan said, making their way up the stairs to their apartment.

"He made no moves. I made direct eye contact," Brie said.

"He was on the edge of the streetlight, wearing a hood," Dylan said, rocking to one side. "Do you really think that you could give the cops a clean description of him?"

"No, but I wasn't getting creep-stalker vibes, either."

Dylan stopped, tilting away from Brie. "Are you disregarding my instincts?"

"No – no far from it," Brie said, shaking her head. "Are you disregarding mine?"

"You may have daddy and mommy issues, but I have had the far harder row to hoe in my life, Brielynn Reyes," Dylan said. "That man is trouble. For you. For me. The fact that he is out there, standing in the dark when there are laws in place -." 

"There have always been laws in place – the very word 'curfew' actually refers to the time when fires were supposed to be put out," Brie said. "I did what you are supposed to do when meeting someone outside at night. I engaged him in conversation. I made eye contact. Ignoring him and turning our backs to him would be a far, far worse thing."

Dylan pursed their mouth and didn't say anymore. Rather violently, they turned and jerked, finishing their way up the stairwell to the couple's floor.

They slammed the door to the apartment, distinctly in Brie's face.

She took a shaky sigh, not entirely sure what set her partner off. At least Dylan didn't chain the door.

Now wasn't the time for peacemaking; rather, Brie doubled down on the cold shoulder as she got ready for bed. She changed her clothes, washed her face –having always hated sleeping in her make-up – and grabbed the extra set of blankets and duvet from the storage box at the foot of their bed.