I’ll be there with you.”
Andrea smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Good.”
“This briefing room stinks like ass.” Rob walks in grimacing while carrying two coffee cups.
“You’re an expert on the smell of ass?” I reach for a cup, and he pulls it away.
“Fuck off, these are mine.”
“Good morning, sunshine. Rough night?” Rob shoots daggers at me. “Why so blue, Kemosabe?”
“Thanks, dickhead.”
“You’re welcome. For what?”
“Thank you for ditching us last night. Thank you for leaving me with a huge bar bill, a dry cleaning bill for the man Andrea threw up all over, and a huge cab bill because we ended up on Long Beach Island instead of Long Beach, New York.”
“How the fuck did that happen?”
He looks angry at my obvious question. “It doesn’t matter.”
“When did you realize you were going the wrong way?”
“When the cabbie woke us up on LBI.” I openly laugh at him, enjoying this immensely. “It’s not funny.”
“It’s hilarious. Why didn’t you just crash at my place?”
He glares at my revelation. “Gee, why didn’t I think of that?” he asks with sarcasm dripping from each word.
“How is any of that my fault?”
“Did you or did you not order a total of twenty-eight shots of Patron at six bucks a pop?”
“No one forced you to drink all those shots.”
“At six bucks a pop? There was no way I was going to let them go to waste. I tried to drink them, but I couldn’t do it. Last night cost me a fortune. I would’ve poured them into Andrea’s bag if she let me.”
I snatch one of his coffees. “That’s what you get for forcing a situation that had no business being forced.”
He looks at me over the rim of his cup. “Ella pretty much said the same thing to Andrea this morning.”
At the mention of Ella, I remember her perfume. I think I could pick it out of a line-up. “So?”
“Andrea’s right. You are perfect for each other, and you’re both so fucking stubborn.” He shakes his head, immediately holding his forehead with one hand as if the motion is causing him pain.
“You both need to mind your own business.”
“Fuck, I couldn’t give a shit about your love life, but for some reason Andrea does. And if Andrea cares, then I care.”
“Maybe she needs a distraction, like a ring or a baby or a boyfriend with a bigger cock.”
He flips me off, not looking the least bit amused. “Why are we here so early on our day off?”
“Sarge wanted to talk to us.”
Unease alters his features. “Crap.”
“Why do you always assume the worst? I’m hoping that we’re getting a kick-ass case. I’m bored.”
When I get restless, Rob gets nervous. He’s completely comfortable with mediocrity. After our last promotion, I told him that if it weren’t for me, he’d still be walking the beat in Chelsea. He told me to get off my high horse and then to please suck the horse’s cock.
I often wonder the real reason he became a cop. He told me he was predestined to, coming from a long line of cops. I don’t buy it. I love the guy, but his personality is better suited to be an accountant, one with a gutter mouth.
Don’t get me wrong. He’s a very good cop. He keeps me focused, and I get the job done. His strengths are my shortcomings. My strengths are ones he lacks. We moved up the ranks together because of our partnership. We do make a great team. We were promoted sooner than any of our entire graduating class. The guys on the force nicknamed us B & R. One would assume it would stand for Ben and Rob. They’d be wrong. We are known as Batman and Robin in our precinct. I called dibs on Batman, made complete sense to me. That automatically made him Robin. The guys have been ruthless in tormenting him. Last Christmas he received a black mask and a lifetime supply of flesh colored tights.
“Robin, you know I need some action.”
He opens his mouth to respond, but Sarge walking in shuts him up. “Hello, boys.” Following Sarge is a
Andrea smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Good.”
“This briefing room stinks like ass.” Rob walks in grimacing while carrying two coffee cups.
“You’re an expert on the smell of ass?” I reach for a cup, and he pulls it away.
“Fuck off, these are mine.”
“Good morning, sunshine. Rough night?” Rob shoots daggers at me. “Why so blue, Kemosabe?”
“Thanks, dickhead.”
“You’re welcome. For what?”
“Thank you for ditching us last night. Thank you for leaving me with a huge bar bill, a dry cleaning bill for the man Andrea threw up all over, and a huge cab bill because we ended up on Long Beach Island instead of Long Beach, New York.”
“How the fuck did that happen?”
He looks angry at my obvious question. “It doesn’t matter.”
“When did you realize you were going the wrong way?”
“When the cabbie woke us up on LBI.” I openly laugh at him, enjoying this immensely. “It’s not funny.”
“It’s hilarious. Why didn’t you just crash at my place?”
He glares at my revelation. “Gee, why didn’t I think of that?” he asks with sarcasm dripping from each word.
“How is any of that my fault?”
“Did you or did you not order a total of twenty-eight shots of Patron at six bucks a pop?”
“No one forced you to drink all those shots.”
“At six bucks a pop? There was no way I was going to let them go to waste. I tried to drink them, but I couldn’t do it. Last night cost me a fortune. I would’ve poured them into Andrea’s bag if she let me.”
I snatch one of his coffees. “That’s what you get for forcing a situation that had no business being forced.”
He looks at me over the rim of his cup. “Ella pretty much said the same thing to Andrea this morning.”
At the mention of Ella, I remember her perfume. I think I could pick it out of a line-up. “So?”
“Andrea’s right. You are perfect for each other, and you’re both so fucking stubborn.” He shakes his head, immediately holding his forehead with one hand as if the motion is causing him pain.
“You both need to mind your own business.”
“Fuck, I couldn’t give a shit about your love life, but for some reason Andrea does. And if Andrea cares, then I care.”
“Maybe she needs a distraction, like a ring or a baby or a boyfriend with a bigger cock.”
He flips me off, not looking the least bit amused. “Why are we here so early on our day off?”
“Sarge wanted to talk to us.”
Unease alters his features. “Crap.”
“Why do you always assume the worst? I’m hoping that we’re getting a kick-ass case. I’m bored.”
When I get restless, Rob gets nervous. He’s completely comfortable with mediocrity. After our last promotion, I told him that if it weren’t for me, he’d still be walking the beat in Chelsea. He told me to get off my high horse and then to please suck the horse’s cock.
I often wonder the real reason he became a cop. He told me he was predestined to, coming from a long line of cops. I don’t buy it. I love the guy, but his personality is better suited to be an accountant, one with a gutter mouth.
Don’t get me wrong. He’s a very good cop. He keeps me focused, and I get the job done. His strengths are my shortcomings. My strengths are ones he lacks. We moved up the ranks together because of our partnership. We do make a great team. We were promoted sooner than any of our entire graduating class. The guys on the force nicknamed us B & R. One would assume it would stand for Ben and Rob. They’d be wrong. We are known as Batman and Robin in our precinct. I called dibs on Batman, made complete sense to me. That automatically made him Robin. The guys have been ruthless in tormenting him. Last Christmas he received a black mask and a lifetime supply of flesh colored tights.
“Robin, you know I need some action.”
He opens his mouth to respond, but Sarge walking in shuts him up. “Hello, boys.” Following Sarge is a
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