Chapter Nine

9

Evelyn Malkin

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It'd been a few days since Darcy's meltdown. Thank god. I was so sick of her routine like she was the only one who had feelings. Just because I didn't go around disinfecting my life and wearing my emotions on the hem of my skirt didn't mean I didn't care. I passed by that degree every day just like the rest of them. I fought my way out of the closet, digging through high heels and blue jeans. It was mid October, and chilly outside, especially sneaking out of apartments at five in the morning.

                

 I looked at myself in the mirror and realized that I was near tears. I could not cry; it would smudge my eye makeup. Then I'd be late to Badge's. He owed me a shot of whiskey for helping him with the inventory. What I really needed was a good fuck. That would get my mind off Isabella; well, that and a few shots of Jack. There were the tears again, burning my eyes as I fought to keep them at bay, "I hate you, Darcy Tucker," I yelled from the bathroom.

                

 I could hear her down there, running the vacuum. She'd probably start ironing the dust rags when she was done. And I wasn't going to make her life easy. After the way she exploded at us she deserved a little hell. She thought she was the gatekeeper of our emotions, that she could control how we dealt with the grief of Isabella's death. Well, then she could just rot down there, elbow deep in Pine-Sol and bleach cleaner. God, I hoped she got chemical pneumonia or something. Bitch.

                 

I slipped my credit card and some cash in my bra and took one final look in the mirror. The dark wash jeans Tiffy helped me pick out fit my body perfectly. Knee high boots, white blouse, and hair down, I thought I looked great. Of course I did; Evie always looks great. Before I slipped out the door, I scribbled a note on the Post-It pad; Darcy, stop making messes or we'll have to evict you. Hate your guts. E. Then I swiped my arm across the kitchen counter and watched with absolute satisfaction as paper towels, perfectly folded linen napkins, and a tray of polished silver clattered to the floor.

**********

                 

I took my seat at the bar and handed my coat and scarf to Frank, the bartender, and waited for my usual drink. I'd just taken the first sip, enjoying the slow burn as I breathed in the taste of the whiskey, when the DJ flipped that song onto the sound system. Why the hell would they play ABBA at Badge's? You can dance, you can jive, having the time of your life, see that girl, watch that scene, dig in the dancing queen. I swallowed what was left in my shot glass.

                 

Long nights on sorority row were filled with karaoke to ABBA and every other woman's anthem you could imagine. This was our favorite. Even stick-in-the-mud Darcy could get into it. The five of us used to stand up, singing this song into our hair brushes, laughing and dancing around the room. I never remembered Isabella smiling so much.

                 

"You ready for karaoke tonight?" a voice sounded behind me, low and sexy. I turned to see him. Part of me wished he hadn't come. After all, who was I if I wasn't the one seducing him? But another part of me was glad to see Detective D. in all his perfection. He wasn't dressed for the bar; more like he'd just come in from a shift at the precinct, minus the sport jacket.

                

 "I'm always ready." I wiped away thoughts of Isabella and our pasts. Frank put another tumbler of whiskey in front of me. I turned back to my drink and gulped it down. Then I felt him, barely an inch from me, the smell of his cologne overwhelming the taste of the whiskey. How in the hell did cologne taste better than whiskey? I could feel the heat of his body against mine as the heat from the tambourine sounded in the air. All I wanted to do was turn around and lick the man from head to toe.

                

 "I'll have what she's having," he said to Frank, and took the seat next to me, "we still playing games here or what?"

                 

"What the hell are you talking about?" I asked. I waved to Frank for another and turned toward the stage. That damn DJ and his ABBA addiction. Before the night was through, I'd have to have a talk with Badge about the people he hired. No way should Dancing Queen be heard at Badge's.

                 

"I'm talking about you ignoring me. Are we gonna dance around it forever?" He trailed a forefinger over my arm, enjoying the way my body reacted to his touch. Heat flushed down my chest and up my throat. If I'd been Darcy I probably would have fluttered my hands to my chest in a frail little birdlike manner and batted my eyelashes at him.

                 

The thought of Darcy made me seething angry. "Go fuck yourself," I took both his and my drink from the bar and went up to Badge. I could hear Detective D. roaring with laughter as I sauntered away. Goddamn that man! He didn't take no for an answer and all I wanted to do was say yes. But if I did, that would ruin me. I knew it full well. He'd win, take me home, probably give me the best fucking orgasm of my life, and then I'd want him. That was not Evelyn Malkin. But the feel of his eyes on my backside made my knees tremble.

                

 "Badge, I think Detective D. wants to sing some karaoke tonight. You put him on the list first." I smiled back at him then threw back one shot glass of whiskey. It burned like fire, stinging my throat and settling in the pit of my stomach. I really didn't need his glass of whiskey but I wasn't giving it back to him. I swallowed it down too and felt the room spin for a few seconds.

                

 "Oh, Evie," Badge said, rolling his eyes at me.

                 

"It's Raining Men by The Weather Girls," I said, glaring back a Detective D.. He was getting me home in his bed. I had no doubt about that. And since he was the seducer in the equation, the least he could do was suffer a little humiliation for my amusement.

                

 "Piss on an ant, Evie, he's a goddamn cop. He ain't gonna sing that!" Badge argued, but he scribbled it on the paper anyways and handed it to the DJ.

                 

Detective D.'s eyes never left me as I made my rounds through the bar, saying hi to my past and future lovers. By the time I made it back to the bar, he had a club soda waiting for me.

                 

"Done showing off? I don't know what kind of guys you go home with, but I need more than a couple hours to get my fill," he said nonchalantly, handing me the glass.

                 

"You can have me for one night," I murmured, a sly smile tugging at my lips, "I signed you up for karaoke. You sing the song I picked and you can take me home."  I walked away, completely expecting to win this round of battle. No way was he, the big, strong police man, going to sing It's Raining Men in a bar filled with eighty percent  guys. That was how I'd win.

                 

When Carl came in, I didn't pay much attention to him. A time or two he tried to catch my eye, but that ship had sailed. I tried to remember if it was even worth remembering, but couldn't recall any memory other than wishing he'd taken a little blue pill before I climbed on top of him. That was the only problem with Badge's; it was my favorite place in the city and all my one night stands came from there.

                

 Ignoring his gaze, I slipped into a front row table where three guys were tossing back buckets of beer like Gatorade on the sidelines. Flirting, I took a seat on the hot guy's lap and smiled back at Detective D.. This guy was not Detective Dane Fisher at all, but he would have been my type before the good detective blew into my life. I laughed at a joke that wasn't funny and sipped the club soda as Badge introduced the start of karaoke.

                 

Suave and casual, Detective D. strutted up to the stage and took the mic in hand. He glanced down at me, eyes smoldering with a dark broodiness I expected came naturally to him. The music started, and he rolled his eyes at me. That perfect square jaw clenched when the words popped up on screen. Then he gave me an evil smile like he was saying I was going to pay dearly for this when he got me alone and naked. Damn. That was hot.

                 

Watching the performance, enjoying the sight of him trying to sing the gayest women's anthem ever, Carl made his way to the table. The guy with his arms around my waist laughed, but when Carl grabbed my wrist the guy let go of me, and hoisted me out of his lap like he was offering me up to the dance gods. Carl didn't want to dance. What he wanted was me to go back home with him. That wasn't happening. I yanked my hand away from him, and before I could make a move to go around him, he pulled my face into his sloppy kiss.

                 

"What the fuck?" Detective D. screamed at the mic. I heard it drop to the stage, the sound amplified through the speakers. Then Carl was gone. I opened my eyes and flexed my hand. The wrist was sore but not as sore as Carl's face was going to be when he sobered up. Detective D. stood over him like pit bull on a cat.

                

 "I think she said no," Detective D. growled at him, obviously resisting the urge to kick him in the nuts.

                 

"Fuck off, dude. Evie never says no, do you baby?" he smiled up at me, then sobered enough to put a protective hand over the family jewels.

                 

"Get the hell out of here or I'm gonna have some of my CPD buddies let you spend a few days in the drunk tank." Those words spat at the pitiful man on the floor, Detective D. took me by the hand and led me to the bar, practically yanking me across the floor and through gaping stares. Frank had my coat and scarf in hand.

                

 "What are you doing?" I pouted. Badge's was just getting good. The brisk night air burned my lungs when we stepped outside, people passing us on the street, wondering if they should be concerned or not paying attention at all. Hell, even I was worried if I should be concerned. His body was seething with anger. When we made it to his car, he stopped at the passenger side and turned on me.

                 

"Why do you do this?" he asked, almost yelling at me.

                 

"Do what?" A flash of Isabella burst across my thoughts.

                 

"Fuck them? That guy is a sick bastard and you just give yourself to him like he deserves you." He didn't move his eyes from mine as he spoke, the silver streak of moonlight making panic overwhelm his pupils.

                 

"I don't give myself to anyone. I like sex. I enjoy it. So if I want to fuck around with a bunch of guys I don't care who thinks I'm a slut. This is Evelyn Malkin. Take it or leave it. I could give a fuck-less what you or anyone else thinks." I was going to turn and leave, feeling insulted and hurt for the first time in my life at the hands of a man. How could he make me feel so cheap, I wondered like it mattered.

                 

But then he crushed me against the car, pressing me against the cold glass on the passenger side, and slid his body up mine. When his mouth came over mine, the taste of club soda on his tongue, the feel of his stubble against my chin, those hands grasping my hips, I could do nothing to resist him.

                 

"If you choose to go home with me tonight, you can only have me. I can make you happy and we don't have to call it anything but fucking if that'll make you happy." He growled, voice deep against my neck as he kissed me.

I heard someone mutter at us to get a room, but my heart was pounding too wildly for me to shout at them to pull their bottom lip over their head and take a flying leap off the nearest subway.

                

 "And if I say no?" I breathed against him, feeling lightheaded from his touch.

                 

"Then I take you back to your place and we start this dance all over again the next time you're at Badge's and I catch some filthy creep trying to feel you up." He pressed harder against me and I knew there was no way I could deny this man anything, even as much as the real Evie was screaming at me to knee him in the crotch and laugh as I walked away.

                

 It didn't take me long to weigh the options. I could go back to his place and get the best lay of my life, or go back to Badge's and spend the night picking through one loser or another, comparing them all to Detective D. The choice was simple.

                 

"You be bad cop. I'll be the perp," I growled back at him.

                 

"Role play. I can do that, Evie." He kissed me again, then opened the car door and watched me climb inside.