Daniel Simmons, better known by his clients as Dr. Diggy, makes his living as a sex therapist with high profile clientele. He works in Los Angeles, the city of angels and the city of stars. He takes his job very seriously, and he's very good at it...
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My heart feels like it's about to pound out of my chest, my palms are sweaty, and I'm desperately trying to look as calm and normal as possible. Isaiah shoots me a side eye, obviously silently telling me how terrible of a job I was doing right now. It's not my fault he's a fucking criminal. I can't help but feel like a criminal too with the gun hidden beneath the fabric of my shirt.
Isaiah rolls the window down as the officer, a young, attractive man with chocolate colored skin taps on the glass.
"Good evening, officer." Isaiah says with a smile. "What seems to be the problem?"
"You didn't signal back there before you turned." The cop says, and I briefly make out his shiny name badge: Sawyer.
"I'm sorry, I promise you it just slipped my mind." Isaiah says.
The officer looks in the car and over at me. I try my best to offer him a smile, but all the whole I keep thinking that he might know that I'm concealing an unlicensed weapon.
"Can I see your license and registration?" Officer Sawyer asks Isaiah.
Isaiah looks at him. "Officer, are we sure that's necessary? I mean, I only—"
"License and registration." Officer Sawyer says agin, this time his tone indicating that he doesn't want to take anymore of Isaiah's shit.
At this point, I don't want to take anymore of Isaiah's shit either.
Isaiah reaches into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet, taking out his driver's license, and handing it to Officer Sawyer. Officer Sawyer shines his light on the license as Isaiah reaches over me and into the glove compartment.
"You look like you're about to shit on yourself." He says, his voice so low I almost can't hear it. "Get yourself together, Simon."
I look up at Officer Sawyer, who's watching intently as Isaiah grabs the insurance and registration, and then passes it to him. Officer Sawyer scans these documents as well.
"See, everything lined up right?" Isaiah asks, and then Officer Sawyer shines the light in on us. I hold my breath, trying to remain calm under his scrutinizing gaze, but I feel like he knows I'm guilty of something.
"There's just one more thing." Officer Sawyer says. "Your tags are expired."
"I just haven't been by to get the new ones." Isaiah says. "I'm getting ready to move in a few days anyway, so I just thought that maybe—"
"If you're going to drive your tags have to be up to date." Officer Sawyer says, taking out his ticket book and starting to write Isaiah a ticket.
