Chapter One

1


Evelyn Malkin

_______________________

I crushed the cigarette in what I thought was an ash tray. As soon as my fingertips pressed against the night table, I knew I'd missed the ash tray. The orange glow of the butt smothered against the wood top. If it'd been my stuff I would have been pissed. But this was another five a.m. at Keith's apartment-or was it Carter-I wasn't sure. That incessant snoring seemed to wake me most mornings, and while I loathed the sound sawing in my ears at five in the morning, I also welcomed it. It gave me the perfect time to slip out of bed, find my clothes (or what was left of them) and skedaddle before the boy toy was awake and wanting a phone number, an address, or worse; breakfast.

The floor creaked when I stepped down. A lot of people make the mistake of taking too long. They inch their way through every noise until twenty minutes have passed and end up getting caught. Not me. I'd shared one too many beds to fall into that old trap. Follow through with your movements, get out of bed, get dressed. Don't waste time waiting to get caught. I pulled my skirt back on and zipped it up the back. The sound seemed to wade on Keith's (Carter's?) consciousness. The blouse on over my head, I slid my heels on as I pulled the shirt down into place.

I wasn't going to leave him a note with some lame excuse about an early morning meeting. No, better if I just cut the ties and the falsehoods. I wasn't coming back and he'd never see me again. Last night was fun, but not fun enough for me to lock myself into a relationship. I thought about taking the pack of smokes but thought better of it. I never smoked unless the cigarettes were there in front of me. One last look around through the darkness, I made sure I had all of what belonged to me, then opened the bedroom door and let myself out of the apartment.

Out on the street, the sun beginning its battle against the moon, I inhaled the morning air deeply, sucking it down into my lungs until they ached for release. It wasn't cold yet but summer's days were numbered. I didn't like winter; much harder to want to sneak out of a man's place when it was below zero outside. A woman in a business suit passed me by, her cell phone attached to her ear. She gave me that disapproving look as she went, like she knew it was my walk of shame or something. Quickly, I grabbed a compact from my purse and checked my reflection.

The eyeliner had crumbled in the crease of my eye and mascara sat on my lashes in clumps. Definitely time to stop for a coffee and a quick cleanup in the ladies room. Besides of which, I needed to get out of those panties. They were still wet. Surely it wasn't my own bodily fluids that had the fabric still damp. Did I remember Keith (Carter?) spilling his beer on the floor when he'd had me undressed?

When I got to my favorite coffee shop, Dawn of the Dead, I waved to Dawn and went straight back to the ladies room. Sure enough, my panties smelled like beer. Thank god, because I did not need another sexual talent to get me into trouble. The only one who'd found the bathroom that morning, I pulled a wad of paper towels from the wall and wet them with cool water. Most of my makeup had stayed in place. It was the eyes that always betrayed me. Once the smoky eye shadow was gone, the mascara clumped away, the liner smudged out of control, I was just your average twenty-eight year old. Even the odd gun-metal gray color of my eyes wasn't so impressive without the makeup. I used the powder in my purse to smooth the complexion once again. With a comb and a little luck, I managed to pull my hair down and practically cover the signs of my all-nighter.

When I'd done all I could do in the bathroom, I went back out to the shop. Dawn had my regular waiting for me at my usual seat at the counter. "So who was it this time?" she asked, her voice raspy like a smoker although she swore she'd never touched one in her life.

"I think his name was Keith, or maybe Carter. He was a big talker but didn't deliver." I swirled the black coffee and watched the steam rise. Dawn made the best black coffee in the city, with just a hint of sweet pineapple taste. Sounds kooky, but was the best two bucks of my day.

"Evie, one day all these men are gonna catch up to ya. What'll you do then?" She had another customer to focus on and left me to ponder the possibilities.

Why was it so wrong for a woman to enjoy sex? All week I worked and took care of life but on the weekends I was karaoke queen at Badge's Bar. I was the life of the party. Every Friday and Saturday night, and sometimes on Wednesday, I could go into that bar and be a celebrity. The guys practically lined up out the door for a chance to take me home. My reputation, although not saintly, was fun. And if there was anything I'd learned in my life, it was that you had to take fun when the opportunity arose or else you'd be some unhappy housewife for the rest of your life. No sir, that was not me. I had no desire to have a husband or children. I was perfectly happy going to work, coming home, getting dressed up, and stalking Badge's for my next good time.

"What happens when you meet Mr. Right and he finds out that your Pikachu has no boundaries? Then you'll start moping around in here, scaring away all my real customers," she slid a saucer to me with a cellophane strangled muffin.

"Uh, if I meet Mr. Right he'll be a plastic surgeon with nymphomaniac tendencies. Neither of us will want kids because we'll be too busy fucking each other to want some brats running around the house. He'll love me for the sex crazed loon that I am or he can be just another one night stand," I said, my voice seeming a little too loud as the door to the shop opened.

In walked a man who looked like he knew how to have a good time. He was tall, with square shoulders and matching jaw. His face was so angular I wondered if it'd been chiseled from stone. Even those terrible fluorescent lights of the coffee shop could not blemish his honey colored skin. The black, standard issue t-shirt he wore announced the police department. Any other man that wore it I might have thought just had found a novelty t-shirt, but this man had the swagger in his walk, that look in his eyes, the gun holstered under his arm.

"Morning, Dawn," he said in a gravelly voice that seemed to vibrate from my toes to my hips. He didn't take his eyes off of me. "I'm not a plastic surgeon but I do have a quality pair of handcuffs."

He'd heard my diatribe from the doorway. Great. All four customers at the shop must have heard me as well. Not that I really cared what anyone thought, but that kinda of carelessness could get a girl in trouble. Last thing I needed was a freak with a pee fetish to follow me home and string up hidden cameras while I was out reviving my Queen of Karaoke crown.

"Why Officer, I think you completely misunderstood me," I sipped my coffee and turned to him, offering the most enticing smile I could muster, "if you think one little ole pair of handcuffs is gonna hold me down then you're an amateur." With that, I plucked five bucks from my wallet and left it on the counter for Dawn.

"You're a killer," he smiled at me, a single dimple shining back as I made my way to the door.

"Then you should have made detective," I blew a kiss at no one in general, but kept my eyes on him, then turned and made my way through the door and back into the world.

Six in the morning. The sun was cresting over the city and life had begun anew. All the hungry executives and lawyers were busy climbing the ladder early that Saturday morning. I continued my so-called walk of shame, finding my sunglasses in the bottom of my purse before I'd reached the end of the block. I don't know where the glasses came from, but I'd found them in my purse almost six months ago. They weren't my style but they were expensive so I used them.

At home, the townhouse empty again but a mess otherwise, I started for the shower. My roommates had lives of their own but thought I should be their maid. The answering machine blinked with three messages. Two were for Tiffy and one for Darcy. They were week-old messages and I silently admonished them. When was the last time I'd saw them? I couldn't remember. But E! News blared from the television which meant Tiffy had just been home.

One hot shower and a clean pair of underwear later, I'd managed to reorganize the kitchen and living room. I'd leave the bathroom for one of them. I hated cleaning bathrooms. I sat down on the sofa, my big comfy robe wrapped around me, a bowl of oatmeal cooling on the arm of the couch. I switched the news to CNN and tried not to poke fun at Nancy Grace's accent. Sometimes I wanted to like her and other times I couldn't stand the sight of her.

Belly full, warm sun shining through the window, I couldn't help but get sleepy. I didn't want to go to bed at eight a.m. Badge's had a karaoke contest that night. The last one of the month was always for a fifty dollar gift card and a free drink. I needed to be rested for it, but even as the thought was finishing on my brain, I felt myself drifting in to the release of consciousness. Nancy Grace's southern accent would haunt my dreams, I was sure.

**********

Eight o'clock drew near and I still hadn't seen or heard from my roommates. How many times had I invited them down to Badge's to hear me sing? I'd lost count, but maybe it was a good thing. Bad things happened to friends when they shared too much life together, and as it was I needed their help with the payment on the townhouse. I tossed the lash curler back into my makeup bag and reached for the mascara.

A new look tonight; blonde hair in soft curls down my back, tight, low rise jeans, a red blouse with gold bangles. Just the right amount of sexy and bad. I slid on Tiffy's new strappy Manolos and gave myself one more look in the mirror. She'd hate that I took her shoes without asking but if she ever came home I might have had the chance.

I pulled money from my purse before I left and slid the wad of bills into my bra-safest place to be before three-and scurried out the door. I had to be at Badge's in time to enter my name before the nine o'clock karaoke round.

**********

The bar was packed, just like always on a Saturday night. Smoke filled the small space, dusty lighting beating down patterns of dust motes and nicotine swirls. Beer sloshed over mugs and bottles clanked as waitresses cleaned tables. As always, the men far outnumbered the women-well it hadn't always been that way, but once I found my groove at Badge's the women slowly stopped finding their way to the bar. Eh, who cared, meant I could be pickier anyways.

"Evie, you're back!" Badge said from his position at the door as bouncer. He was a retired police officer. I'm not sure anyone even knew what his real name was, but he'd been Badge from the moment I stepped foot inside the bar some months ago.

"You know I hate it when you guys call me that," I leaned in to give him a hug and heard him inhale the scent of my perfume.

"You love to hate us and you know it. Got a victim in mind for tonight's last call?" He elbowed me gently and made a show of gawking at the choices Badge's had to offer.

"Nope, go in with high hopes tonight. Keith or Carter, that guy from last night, was a dud. You're supposed to take better care of me than this," I laughed.

"Evie, I'd take you home in a minute and treat you like a queen but we both know you well enough to know you'd be insulted. And I think that guy's name was Carl, but I ain't seen him around here yet. There is someone who's been asking about ya. See that guy over by the sound system? That's Detective Dane Fisher. Said he saw you this morning and someone told him he could find you here," he waited for me to explain as if he thought I was in trouble for some crime.

"Just one of my many admirers. You put my name on the list. I'm gonna go make Detective D. a little jealous." I winked at Badge and then lost myself in a sea of people who all seemed to be getting drinks at the same time. Frank was behind the bar, along with Shelley. She didn't like me too much but Frank was nice enough. I stood in line for him but he sent one of the waitresses out with my drink. Jack Daniels. Love the burn and the extra shot of liquid courage, although anyone who knew me from the bar would tell you I didn't need it in the least.

A table of guys I'd seen in Badge's before, but had never paid any mind to, offered a seat at their table. Feeling Detective D.'s eyes on me, I made a show of accepting the seat. When one of the guys snuggled too close, a red haired man with wiry facial hair and pock marks on his cheeks, I tried to push away without being so obvious. The man was already buzzed though. Of course that meant he thought he was invincible or irresistible, or one of those "I" words.

"I think that means the lady wants hands off for now," his deep voice boomed over the noise of the crowd and clanking bottles, and CD music.

"Detective D., nice to see you again," I replied stupidly. The man wore jeans and a simple blue button up shirt. Probably something out of the pages of Old Navy or something like that, but it didn't look ridiculous on him. The way his butt filled out his jeans and how the shirt only hinted at the strong chest hidden beneath.

"Let's dance," he pulled me from the table and in a single motion, had me out on the dance floor with the other six couples who thought you could dance to Two Shots of Happy, One Shot of Sad and not look like a complete idiot. Detective D. just held me against him, barely moving his hips to the music, his feet planted like a petrified redwood.

"What are you doing?" he asked, a growl in his voice forming a disgusted grimace on his lips.

"What I do best until the karaoke contest starts. And what makes you think I need saving?" I felt the aggravation of attraction start to creep into the pit of my stomach. "I'm not a victim. I choose to have sex because I enjoy it. I'm not the happy little suburban housewife you're looking for."

He laughed at me, tossing his head back and letting a rumbling burst of laughter escape his mouth. "Who says I want a housewife? Why can't I just want to have a good time?" His face went dark but exceedingly handsome at the same time.

"You're a police officer. You have this whole façade of a good guy to put up. And I might be a slut but I don't get passed around a locker room like a porn star," I grimaced at him, feeling both disgusted and intrigued at the same time.

"I'm a Detective and my personal life is my personal life. Besides, I think one night with me and you'll start thinking the whole friends with benefits idea ain't so bad." He pulled me tight against him and pressed his lips against mine.

That kiss was unlike any I'd ever had before. The heat of his mouth, the feel of his tongue not even trying to part my lips, drove me insanely hot. His hands traveled down my hips, cupping at the curve of my ass so he could pull me even tighter against him. As if I couldn't already feel him hard against my belly. When his hands worked their way up my back and to my hair, fingers grasping at my skull as he moved my chin back to kiss at my neck, I heard the first honest to goodness pre-orgasm moan slip from my mouth that I think I'd ever experienced.

"Now imagine what I would do to you naked," he whispered, his voice barely a breath against my ear.

I could have given in to the desire right there. I even thought about taking him into the ladies room and finding a quiet stall in which to acquaint myself with him. But if I gave in to him, it'd go against every gut feeling that kept kicking at my ovaries to wake up and think. This man had just done what I swore no man would-he was seducing me. Anger flourished through me then, and I tore myself away from his kiss.

"Nice try, Detective D., but you aren't my type." I took three steps away and plucked my drink from the table of guys who were angry I'd been taken away but not angry enough to stand up to the man who'd done it. Pansies! I'd show them, though, and him too. He glared at me as I took my seat, running my hands over the knee of the dark haired man who'd taken the place of Pock Boy.

When was the last time I'd gone home with friends? I couldn't remember but it seemed the perfect night to pull the old fetish out of the bag.

"And now, to start the contest, Badge's very own wall-flower, Evie!" Badge's voice echoed over the speaker system. It almost seemed like he used it to play referee, to keep me from a flagrant foul. Cheers erupted through the bar. I downed the last sip of my drink and made my way to the microphone. The DJ was ready and waiting, my song queued on the little monitor I didn't need.

If I'd picked some song about hating a guy's guts then I would have glared at Detective D. the whole time I sang the song. As it was, I'd chosen an Aretha Franklin ballad about love that wasn't good for you. Definitely not the song I wanted to sing while making eye contact with him. I did, however, make googly eyes at my table of guys. Two of those lucky fellas would be taking me home for the night and I just prayed to god Detective D. stuck around long enough to watch me leave with them.