Just a Little Series (Part 1) Read online

“I always thought this was a stereotype,” I took a pink sprinkled donut from the table in the break room.

  “How do you think stereotypes get started, Pumpkin?” Charlie draped his arm across my shoulder and pulled me close to his chest. He took a bite of a chocolate glazed donut, and crumbs fell down the front of his uniform. “Now let’s get you ready for the day.”

  I looked around the quiet break room and wondered if it was a glance into my future at the Oakland Police Department. The room was cozy, offering all the amenities a person might need for a quiet mid-day break, or in my case, a 5:30 a.m. breakfast. The halls were quiet, the phones weren’t ringing, and the only sound in the building came from the faint dripping of water in the sink.

  “Are we the only ones here?” I asked Charlie, handing him a napkin to wipe the crumbs from his mustache.

  “Nah,” he wiped his face, “the first shifters are uniformed and ready for briefing. They’re just waiting for me.”

  “Then don’t you think we should… you know?” I nodded toward the door.

  Charlie plucked one final donut from the box and strolled out of the room. I followed quickly behind him, wondering at what point he’d stop long enough to give me my assignment.

  As we approached a lone wooden door at the end of the hall, Charlie stopped and turned.

  “I’m heading in for a bit,” he said. “Stay put. I’ll let you know when we’re ready for you.”

  “But what do you want me to do?”

  “Stay put,” he said again. Without further elaboration, Charlie disappeared behind the door, leaving me in the dimly lit hallway.

  After waiting for what felt like hours, I wandered back into the break room and took a seat at the center table. I smoothed the wrinkles in my pink striped shirt, nudged my—purely fashionable—glasses a little further up my nose, and waited as patiently as possible for my uncle to return.

  There was something serene about early mornings at the Oakland PD. I nestled deeper into the folding chair, rested my head against the back of the metal, and closed my eyes.

  “Julie?” An unfamiliar voice called my name from the door. Before I had time to turn around, a strong hand landed on my shoulder, momentarily paralyzing my nerves. I balled my shaking hands into fists and finally mustered the nerve to turn and meet the man behind the voice.

  Dressed in his uniform and ready for the day, the young officer stood tall at the back of the chair, still resting his hand firmly on my shoulder. His black hair fell neatly above his brow, encouraging me to focus on the intensity of his dark eyes. His lip curved into a smirk, pulling back ever so slightly to the left.

  He was as calm and collected as a person could be, which was more than I could say for myself.

  “You are Julie?” he asked, finally retracting his hand. He leaned down to meet my gaze as if to check my pupils for a response. “Are you okay?”

  I shook my head, trying to calm my unsettled nerves.

  “Yeah,” I nodded, nudging my glasses back into place. I finally stood and turned to assess him on a whole new level. “You just scared me.”

  “Rule number one,” he folded his arms at his chest. “Always be on high alert.”

  “I was just resting—”

  “I didn’t use the word always loosely, Miss Little.”

  His smirk widened into a grin, bringing to light an inch-long scar on his upper lip. I studied the scar for a few long seconds, wondering what incident in his life had left the blemish behind.

  “It’s not polite to stare,” he walked past the table and toward the coffee brewing on the opposite counter. He plucked a labeled mug from a cabinet and turned back to me as he filled the cup to the rim.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, standing straighter. “I suppose my uncle told you I was here?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, “in fact, he sent me on a mission to find you when you turned up missing.”

  “I wasn’t missing.”

  “He told you to stay put, didn’t he?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you moved, didn’t you?”

  “I did, but—”

  “Rule number two,” he took a drink. He closed his eyes and savored the drink, but only for a moment. Watching me again, he nodded once. “Do as you’re told. When you’re given orders, follow them, especially if the order is given by the Chief. In this building and on this job, Charlie Little is not your uncle; he is your superior.”

  I stood and stared in amazement, wondering if his rules were to be taken seriously or if this was just his idea of a joke that I failed to find the humor in.

  “Any questions so far?” he asked, never letting his eyes wander from mine. “It’s imperative that you understand what’s expected of you.”

  “This is all a joke, right?” I looked around the break room. How could all of his rules possibly apply to the work I’d be doing at the station? Being alert, following orders… how hard could it possibly be to push papers around a desk all day?

  “A joke?” He leaned against the counter and stared at me in disbelief. His brow furrowed as he shook his head and mumbled what sounded an awful lot like, “I can’t believe I let him talk me into this.”

  “I’m sorry?” I asked, taking a step closer. “Do you have a problem with me, Officer?”

  “Not so much a problem with you, as a concern about you,” he said shamelessly. “You’re a major liability issue, Little.” He looked from my pink shirt to matching sneakers and shook his head. A faint chuckle came from behind his mug as he took another drink. “If you’re not going to take this position seriously, you need to call it quits while you’re still ahead.”

  I leaned closer to get a better look at his name tag.

  L. Reibeck.

  “Well, with all due respect, Officer Reibeck,” I threw my shoulders back, “I haven’t even been given an assignment yet. So for you to say that I’m not taking my position seriously is just as bogus as the idea of me having to put in these hours to begin with. As soon as Charlie finds the time, he’ll assign me to my desk job, and you can let go of your fear of me being a liability.”

  “You haven’t been given your orders yet?” His smile grew wider than before. “Oh, this should be fun.”

  Just as the word fun slipped off his lips, Charlie stepped into the room and clapped his hands together.

  “Julie,” he said with the force of authority, “you’re on patrol with Trigger for the morning. You’ll ride along, get a feel for the position, and report back to me at lunch. I want you two to work out a schedule for the first half of your hours. Trigger,” he turned to Officer Reibeck. “She’s the closest thing I have to a daughter. Keep her safe out there.”

  “Will do, sir.”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I said, “you’re sending me out there? With him? I thought I was putting my hours in at the station?”

  “How are you ever going to learn what it means to be a police officer without field experience, Pumpkin?” Charlie winked as though that would be enough to calm my unsettled nerves.

  “Charlie,” I suddenly thought of my father. After everything I’d been through, and everything I’d lost, it was all too much. I wasn’t ready; it was far too soon. “I really don’t want to—“

  “Get back on the horse,” he said gently, and it was all he had to say. Charlie’s decision was final, and I wasn’t sure whether I really had any other option but to obey him.

  I looked at Officer Reibeck, who raised his brow as if amused by my misunderstanding.

  “Put in four hours this morning,” Charlie said, his tone back to normal. “Then you’re free for the day. How’s that sound?”

  I looked between the two men, knowing I had no choice but to comply. I sighed, shrugged, and mumbled, “Okay.”

  Charlie kissed the top of my head and left the break room, yelling “That’s my girl,” as he reached the end of the hallway.

  I stared at the empty doorway for a few long seconds before turning back to Officer Reib
eck.

  “So,” I pursed my lips. “What now?”

  “We head out,” he said. “You ready?”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “No.”

  “Then I suppose I’m ready,” I turned to leave the room.

  As Officer Reibeck and I walked down the hall and toward the exit on the far end of the building, an older Latino detective looked up from his desk, eyeing me, and then nodding at his peer as if to hold back a laugh. “Good luck out there, Trigger.”

  “Bite me, Bruno,” he responded, holding the door open for me to exit. As the door shut, I heard a bout of laughter from inside the station.

  “This is all just one big joke to you, isn’t it?” I asked.

  “Look,” he approached the nearby patrol car, “Chief makes the calls; we do as we’re told. But yes. This is an all-time low, Little. None of us joined the force to chauffeur the Chief’s kid niece around town.” He opened the back door of the patrol car and nodded. “Get in.”

  The backseat?

  I looked at him and then back to the car. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “You thought you were riding up front?” he asked, still holding the door open. “No, ma’am. Front seat has to be earned. Judging by your reluctance to follow a simple rule this morning, there’s no telling what you’re capable of in the real world. So, if you’re going, get in. If not, it’s all the same to me.”

  “You have got to be kidding me.”

  “Does this look like the face of a man who’s joking?”

  I stared at him for another beat and realized he was as close to joking as I was to liking him.

  Nope. It didn’t look like the face of a man who was joking. It looked like the face of man who was going to have another scar on his lip by the end of the day, especially if he kept treating me like a child.

  THREE