Disorderly Conduct (The Academy #1)

“Where do you think it is? On her fucking forehead?”

“Who knows what your brain comes up with, man,” I mutter, starting to get anxious over how long the ride is taking. Ever really sounded like she needed help, and it took me half an hour to get Jack semisober and presentable. I have a secret weapon, though, to make up for the delay. Danika is meeting us there to help out, giving Ever three for the price of one. If I was charging, which I’m not. Right now, I’m just trying to be the guy she calls when shit goes bad. Call me Mr. Fix It. At some point, she’s going to realize I’m exactly what she needs and end the dating bullshit. The sooner the better. I’ve been tearing my hair out not being able to see her. Wondering if she’s set any more world records for interest on DateMate.com, speculating on whether or not she’s getting over me with every passing minute. Basically, I’ve engaged myself in mental warfare.

Distract yourself. “What was Danika doing when you called her?”

“Writing something, I think. On that laptop of hers.” The train pulls to a stop, and Jack stumbles in the direction of the sliding metal doors. “Didn’t really hear much past her calling me a son-of-a-bitch.”

Sounds like Danika. She’s Jack’s oldest friend and my newest, but after months of sharing living space, I know her personality well. She and Jack grew up together in Hell’s Kitchen. They have the kind of oldest friend loyalty toward one another that you can’t understand unless you’re one of them. Naturally, I’d wondered if there was more to their relationship than friendship, but no. They might as well be related by blood. Danika took her calling as Jack’s friend seriously, bullying him out the door each morning, visibly determined to keep him on the straight and narrow.

As much as possible, anyway, when dealing with Jack.

Danika is hot in a sharp, intimidating, I-will-literally-cut-off-your-balls kind of way, but I’ve only ever seen her as my pal. And hell, a competitor. She keeps me on my toes during drills at the academy, pushing herself more than any of my fellow recruits.

I watch Jack narrowly miss running into a concrete pillar on the way to the escalator leading out of the train station. Maybe I need to start doing my part for Jack, too. I know he didn’t have an ideal upbringing, but I’ve never asked him if his constant drinking is a way to forget something from the past. Sometimes I catch him with a far-off expression, and my intuition tells me he isn’t just imbibing for a good time. After talking to Ever through the dating site and realizing she has this whole life I wasn’t aware of, I’ve started to wonder what else I’m missing when it comes to the people around me.

Jack hiccups as we climb above ground, both of our cells beeping as we regain reception. “Incoming,” Jack mutters, just as Danika marches toward us on the sidewalk, in combat boots and a smirk. “Hello, sweet honey child.”

“You don’t charm me, babe, I’ve known you too long.” She leans in and sniffs Jack’s breath, shaking her head. “Fuck sake, Garrett. I can’t leave you alone for a minute.”

Danika turns accusing eyes on me and I’m no fool, so I reach for the sky. “He was in this condition when I found him, ma’am.” It’s not good enough, I know. There is genuine concern in her eyes and I shouldn’t make a joke, but I’m still navigating the newness of becoming the third person in their friendship. I don’t want to make light of Jack’s drinking problem, but I don’t want to overstep, either. “He just needs to get a second wind, right, man?”

“Right.” Jack winks at Danika and fast as lightning, he lifts her off the ground into a bear hug. “Come on, Danny. I hate it when you’re mad at me.”

“Not mad. Worried,” she says under her breath, but I catch it. Breaking free of Jack’s hold, she takes off down the sidewalk. “Come on, assholes, I already found the place and we’ll be lucky if there isn’t a mutiny over crab cakes by now. I don’t know how I let you talk me into this.” We catch up with Danika, and she throws me the speculative female side eye. “If I wasn’t dying to find out more about this girl who used to send you running every lunch break, I wouldn’t even have pants on right now. Are you guys back on now, or what?”

Grateful she isn’t holding Jack’s condition against me, I throw an arm across her shoulders. Jack does the same, so we’re a connected unit walking down the sidewalk. “We’re friends. Ever and I.”

Danika snorts. “I know how this story ends.”

I give her a confused look, as if I haven’t considered every angle. “We end up back in bed together? Everyone lives happily ever after leading their own lives, making their own schedules, not meeting each other’s parents and having a sex lifeline to call, whenever they want it? Sounds terrible.”

Jack fist bumps me behind Danika’s head. “I’m glad we’re friends,” he hiccups.

“For the record, Charlie, you’re playing a dangerous game. We always find out what men are up to. It’s inevitable,” Danika says, then groans. “How did I end up being the voice of reason in this trio? I like to make trouble, too, you know.”

“And we’ll be there to bail you out when that happens,” Jack drawls, ruffling her hair. “What am I supposed to do when we get there, again?” he calls to me. “Besides eat.”

I check the address we’re passing and note we’re almost there. Up ahead, I can see a swanky brownstone all lit up and know Ever is inside. Swear to God, I can feel her, and I relax completely for the first time since we were together in the bar.

I’ve missed her. A lot.

Pushing aside the realization, I steer Jack and Danika toward the brownstone. “You’re going to pop an Altoid and be your charming self. You bring your deck of cards?” He salutes me with his free hand. “Good. Your only other order of business is to stay twenty yards away from Ever at all times.”

He nods in understanding. “How am I going to get the free food?”

“I’ll bring you a plate.”

We disconnect and climb the stairs. The door is open, and voices drone out through the crack. Knowing there is no way they’ll hear a knock, I push open the door and glide inside like I own the place.

Cop walk. It gets you anywhere.

The place is jam-packed—and it’s all women. They’re dressed like they’re at a country club wedding, in pantsuits and dresses I know are expensive by just looking at them. When I was young, a police dispatcher, Malia, used to babysit me and she’d watch old episodes of Murder, She Wrote, one right after the other. This event reminds me of something out of that show, and I make a mental note to check in on Malia soon.