Outta the Storm
I’m a cop–I’m not perfect, and like everything else out on the street, I’m a bit tarnished.
Sarah, my partner, is tarnished too–hell, she’s so bitter, at times I think she’s corroded.
Mind you, dealing with hustlers and street people will do that to you. It’s an occupational hazard.
Tonight I’m doing penance for my sins, and believe me, I have many.
I’m treating a cute little streetwalker named Flo to a hot coffee and a few moments of warmth in the police cruiser.
Yeah, I know it’s not protocol, and I’ll certainly take the heat for it if Sarah comes back and catches me being kind to a hooker, but hell, it’s really damp and cold and the poor kid is shivering.
Sure enough, Sarah’s outta the bar and poundin’ on the roof. I turn to Flo and warn her cause Sarah's in a mood and I don't wanna cross her.
“Uh, oh—looks like someone’s a bit tetchy. Let her in, Kid, and hop in the back.”
Flo cranks open the door, brushes past Sarah and then heaves open the back door and slides along the seat.
Sarah just stands there with her mouth open, looking at the girl. She’s got this, who the hell do ya think you are? kinda look on her face.
Flo ducks her head and curls up in the back. Good move on her part.
Sarah grumps in beside me and reaches for the now-empty coffee cup.
“Aw, shit! C’mon Brett—my head’s bustin’.”
“It’s all good. We’re gonna give the Kid here a lift home and then we’ll grab ya a coffee—hell, I’ll buy ya a donut.”
Flo chimes in. “Hey, who said anythin’ bout goin’ home? Night’s young.”
“Quit gripin’, Kid. ‘Til Warren gets back, I’m your man—and I’m tellin’ ya it’s quitting time—unless, you’d like to take advantage of the facilities downtown.”
“Naw, it’s okay,” she sighs and polishes a clear patch on the rear window.
“It’s comin’ down real good out there anyway.”
Sarah reaches over and flicks off the heater. “What the hell—it feels like a hundred in here!”
I chuckle and pull away from the curb. “Flo and I were dreamin’ about Club med.”
She casts a baleful look back at Flo, hunched over in the back corner.
“Yeah, you two would make a great pair—‘cept for the age difference.”
“Hey, what’s ten years?” I chirp.
She gives me hell eyes, so I clam up till we drop the Kid at The Walpole, a local flophouse.
Before she gets outta the cruiser, I turn around and glower at her.
“Don’ get no ideas ‘bout goin’ back out,” I warn her. “Sarah here’s jes dyin’ to bust ya.”
She nods and gets out. When Sarah bends her head to check the computer, Flo flashes me her bright neon smile. I flash one back.
Sarah's stuck in Misery Alley, but I'm feeling pretty good right now.
And my tarnish rubs off a bit—I can feel it.