8 Andrew May 15, 2020
"All clear dispatch."
Damn it. I should've signed off twenty-five minutes ago, but some asshole decided to piss on a stop sign in sight of Nosey Nellie. Yes, that really is her name: Nellie Whitlock, the town narc.
So instead of watching my son Eli play shortstop, an inebriated townie loudly counts the telephone poles blurring past the window from his view in the back of my cruiser while I speed back to the station so I can complete a public indecency report.
I know Eli will forgive me; he's very understanding. It's his mama I'm worried about. I try like crazy to keep myself in Jamie's good graces and being late is not the way to do it.
My partner, Clark, clears his throat and I glance over at his dark eyes sliding across the cab.
"Hey man, you okay?"
I smooth down my hairs that were mussed during the arrest. Really who tries to nuggie a cop? Idiot. "Yeah, I'm fine."
"Doesn't look like it to me. You're all shifty and your forehead is fucking sparkling dude." He gestures to my white knuckles with his chin. "You're about to rip that steering wheel out of the column."
With an irritated sigh, I tell him the truth. "I'm late for Eli's ball game. Jamie is going to give me hell. She's already texted me twice to remind me that it starts at five-thirty."
Our back seat passenger takes it upon himself to let out a dramatic gasp. "Ohhhh, somebody's in trouble."
"Zip it!" My partner slaps the back of his hand on the plexiglass divider in front of the drunk's face. "Just drop me and the lush at the station and head to the game. I've got this one."
After passing the drunk over to my partner for processing, I'm finally on my way to the ball field. With any luck, I'd be able to slip in without catching Jamie's eye and pretend I'd been there longer.
No such luck. Before my ass even hits the cold metal of the bleachers, she's stalking over.
"Seriously, Andrew?" If her flared nostrils weren't a clear enough indication of her pissy mood, calling me Andrew does the trick. Damn it; we've been getting along so well lately. Guess a dinner date is off the table.
"You can't even be on time for your kid," she hisses through clenched teeth. "He looks up to you, you know? He says it's okay to your face, but I'm the one who has to take a sulking eleven-year-old home!"
"Sorry, Jamie. I was on a call. You know I don't have control over where drunk people decide to take their pants off."
Glowering, she huffs at the harsh edge in my voice, but doesn't respond .
I suck in a deep breath. "I really am sorry for being late. I don't work tomorrow. How about I ask Elijah if wants to come home with me. Yeah?"
She eyes me before nodding her head, and the corner of her mouth turns as if she's fighting a smile or frown. I wish I knew what she's thinking as she faces the field again. I used to know how to read all of her expressions, but so much has changed since Jamie asked me to leave.
The anger settles, and we fall into an easy conversation about work and her schooling by Eli's first at bat.
The ball sails across the foul line as he swings too late on the first pitch. The bat cracks against the next, smashing it into the outfield behind first, Eli grinning as he rounds third base.
When the game ends, he runs straight to me, shouting, "Dad, did you see my hit?!"
I scoop him up in a hug, knowing he'll be too cool to greet me like this in front of his friends before long. "Sure did, bud! You really got a hold of that ball."
I give him an extra squeeze before setting him down.
My praise brings an adorable grin to his face. His wide smile shows off missing teeth on both sides, and for a split second, he looks like my little boy again.
"Hey, do you want to come home with me? Maybe give your mom a night of peace and quiet. Looks like she could use it." I ruffle his hair and shoot Jamie a playful look. She glares back, but I know by her playful light eyes it's not serious.
He widens his eyes. "Can I, Mom?"
"That's fine. I do have some homework I've been avoiding."
I am so proud of her for getting back to school. Eli was an unexpected surprise and put her education on hold for a few years. It's been a struggle for her to get back at it while working full time, but I fully support her. When she allows it.
Jamie surprises me by kissing us both on the cheek before sliding into her car and waving goodbye. Maybe the weekend is salvageable.
After Eli swaps his cleats out for slides, we wander toward my cruiser on the other side of the lot. A gleam settles in his eye, and I brace myself for what's coming.
"Dad, can Brody stay the night too?" He claps his hands in front of the blue number seven emblazoned on his chest.
"I donno." I rub my chin, pretending to think about it for a minute.
"Please, Dad? I promise we aren't going to try for another all-nighter. We'll be asleep way before you get up. Promise!"
"Alright. Fine by me as long as Brody's mom okays it."
I know Brody's mom is a sore subject for Jamie, so the boys don't do sleepovers at her house.
When we turn the corner, I spot a familiar blonde poking around under the hood of the Jeep parked in the stall next to us. Eli joins the boy waiting on the curb, launching into an animated play-by-play of the game. It looks like asking Brody's mom won't be an issue.
"Car problems, Nic?"
Relieved eyes meet mine. "Hey, Drew. Seems that way. Care to give a lady a hand?"
"Sure. I was actually just about to call you."
"Well, looks like we're both lucky tonight." Her cherry lips stretch into a suggestive smile.
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