Page 46 of Cry Baby
God damn, that feels good.
I glanced over my shoulder just enough to acknowledge them, and schooling the giddy, dumbass female inside me that was trying to surface at the title.
“Nah. Try again,” I said. “But without making it seem like you’re asking me to dinner, Striker.”
That broke the tension, and a few real laughs sounded, even if they were short and nervous. The biggest thing I heard was the respect mixed in.
Mounds and mounds of fucking paperwork came next. Always does. Authority doesn’t arrive without ink.
Can’t we just slice our wrists and bleed on the badge for fuck’s sake?
I signed without reading more than I needed to read.
Names…
Dates…
Obligations…
The usual illusion that any of it mattered more than what I’d already agreed to by staying in this stupid job.
All the paperwork really meant. “Do you agree to continue to be a drone to the government and break the psyches of men while you’re at it?”
The Captain slid the file back. “You’ll run tighter oversight now. SWAT coordination, plus patrol liaison. You’re the face of response.”
“The face?” I repeated, practically tasting it on my tongue.
He didn’t flinch when he eyed me. “Don’t make it complicated.”
I smirked faintly. “I don’t do complicated.”
That was a fucking lie.
I was a closeted gay man working as a fucking SWAT cop in the bumfuck boonies. I was the definition of complicated, but it was still a useful lie.
The room started to loosen again after that.
Chairs shifted, low voices returned, people pretended the moment was already over so they didn’t have to deal with what it meant for them, and, to be honest, not much had changed.
I stood first because I always did, just like I had to sit facing the door and couldn’t handle being near fucking walls.
Old habits…
I adjusted my vest and rolled my shoulders. My men’s stares were always weighted, but yet another title under my belt made that weight feel even heavier on my shoulders.
Protect the line, Vhause. These dumbasses’ lives and what they inevitably fuck up are all on your ass now.
“You’re dismissed,” the Captain said.
Like I needed permission.
I didn’t respond. Just turned and walked out.
Behind me, I could feel the shift already, and my chest tightened. It was the way people recalibrated when someone moved up: some got quieter, some got louder, and some acted like nothing had changed until it was too late to pretend anymore.
Then there was Marty, just pissing his pants, waiting to talk to me.
It never mattered to me which type they were. All of them were idiots bound to get my ass chewed out for their dumb shit. Boots never listened and were just larger toddlers with a penchant for cursing and worse hygiene.
