My eyes dart around the room, wondering who else has noticed what the Chief is doing. It’s Hennessey who notices first. He slaps the table in front of him and jumps out of his seat as he shouts excitedly. The rest of the house joins in, happily cheering about the capture of the Collector—the sick bastard who held those women captive that Jack got the award for saving. He was still at large at the time of the event, but since big brother made the papers, the entire NYPD stepped up their game to find the fucker. It’s about time, too. We can put out the fucking fires he starts, but it’s better for everyone if the cops can do their job and lock these guys up so they can’t keep putting the entire city at risk.
“All right, calm down,” the Chief says. He throws his hands in the air and laughs heartedly. He keeps on urging the buzz in the room to quiet down, but it takes a while. We’re all pretty tired and ready to head home at shift change, which makes us restless. Well, most of us. I’m just fucking exhausted. I’ll tell Jack I’m happy for him later. The Chief drones on and on about shift changes, reminders to follow protocol, and the importance of safety first. Roger Delgado is a good guy, but he’s the chattiest chief we’ve had. When he’s finally done, he excuses us to go back to what we were doing. I make my way downstairs to the lounge area and lay down on the couch in the center of the room. Hennessey and Luke, our cousin and one of the house’s lieutenants, follows along with a few other guys.
I’ve done everything I’ve needed to do this shift, so I take a much-needed time-out before I’m on house watch. Normally I don’t despise house watch that much. It’s pretty chill, getting to sit at the front desk and shoot the shit with folks. We’d normally have a proby or a volunteer do it, but we’re short on both. On a good day, a couple badge bunnies will stop by and break up the monotony of the position. Bonus points if they’re tourists.
The guys chatter about random shit that’s happened during shift. I tune them out as best I can and finally feel myself slipping out of my foul mood when Smokey jumps onto the couch and curls up on my stomach. I love this little dude. I must drift off quickly, because I don’t even realize I’ve fallen asleep until I’m suddenly awake and totally disoriented. Smokey jumps off my stomach and onto the back of the couch, then disappears. I blink rapidly, unsure that I’m seeing what I think I’m seeing.
Across the lounge is Melanie. She’s got a casual outfit of jean shorts and a fitted tank with a pair of Converse and a large flat white box in her arms. Her curvy frame fills out her clothes nicely. Too nicely and too much skin for her to be hanging out with the assholes here.
Hennessey is practically standing on top of her and reaching for the white box. She pulls it away and laughs. The sound goes straight to my gut, so familiar and comfortable that I almost know it the way I know the rhythmic beating of my own heart. She laughs a lot and smiles even more. Royal’s had her at Mom and Dad’s house five or six times in the two months since they’ve met, and every time she’s there, I find myself looking for a reason to drop in. I finally gave up the excuses and just admitted to myself that I want to see her.
Her eyes land on me, and her smile brightens. She shoves her way past Hennessey, tips her chin up at him, and narrows her eyes. I sit up quickly and move to one end of the couch. She weaves around the recliner and plops down next to me. She grins with her pearly white teeth on full display and pats the top of the box.
“Guess what I have?”
Even with how fucking cute she is, my mood is still shit.
“Antidepressants?” I ask and tilt my head to read the red stamp on the corner of the box top. I suck in a quick breath, now suddenly excited by the familiar little cannoli-shape and the words Abruzzo's Panifico in a dull red ink.
“Better,” she says and swats at Hennessey, who reaches for the box.
“You went to Abruzzo’s?” My words come out reverent. It’s like I’m a kid all over again and Mom’s taking us to Abruzzo’s after church on Sunday because the five of us managed to be good during Mass. It was always something special because we were rarely good enough to earn a trip to Abruzzo’s.
“We got cannoli!” Hennessey shouts, and in a matter of moments, most of the house is charging toward us with a level of enthusiasm that should have Melanie curling in on herself. But she doesn’t. The crazy woman perks up and smiles even brighter at the sight of the ten or so men descending upon her.
“Wow.” She turns away from the heathens and looks me squarely in the eye while gripping the box like her life depends on it. “Forget online dating. Bring cannolis to a firehouse and it’s like Christmas morning for a single chick.”
“You don’t want to date any of these guys, Melanie.” I’m being formal, and I don’t give a fuck. I like her enough to be annoyed by her mention of dating one of these dudes, but I know my place enough to not push it too hard. Plus, she’s still gripping that box of cannoli and not giving ’em up. I know better than to piss off a woman in possession of pastries.
And knives.
Never piss of a woman with knives.
Jack slips through the crowd and, just as I expect him to, crouches down to her level and gives her his best smile. “Thanks for bringing these. We all really appreciate it.”