Page 2 of Cuffed to my Roomies
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Good news: the cops had come to my rescue. Bad news: they probably thought I was pulled over trying to sell drugs out of the trunk or something. I dug out my license and put my hands on top of the wheel. I couldn’t roll down the power windows because the car was dead, so I opened the door and stepped out once the officer showed his badge.
“My car broke down,” I said.
“I see. Miss Weaver, I’m Officer Derek Jennings. My partner, Officer Harding, is in the squad car. We clocked out after a shift and saw your car. Thought you might be in distress.”
“No, I’m good,” I said, “I’d appreciate it if you could call me a towing service though, give them my location.”
“You’re good?” he said, a half smile quirking the corner of his mouth.
I squared my shoulders, wanting to seem like a capable woman, not a recent grad down on her luck and starting to feel noticeably less spunky in the face of adversity. I gave him my brightest smile, the ‘can I get you anything else?’ waitress smile I’d used when working my way through college.
“Yes, I’m good,” I said again, brightly.
“You wouldn’t, say, like a ride into town? I’m sure you have someplace to stay that’s more comfortable than that old Nissan.”
“Actually, I don’t. My rental plans fell through right before my phone battery died. And then, the car. It’s been sort of a rough night, now that I think about it,” I said with a laugh to show it didn’t bother me all that much.
“Listen, I’ve got my phone right here,” he held out his cell phone, “use it to call whoever you want to come get you. I don’t feel right leaving a stranded female at a remote roadside.”
“You said you’re off duty. I don’t want to trouble you. I promise I’m fine,” I said.
Fact was, Officer Jennings was hot. I didn’t like to give in to the damsel in distress stereotype, but there might be something to it after all—given the fact that the cop who stopped me wasn’t some fat chauvinist who didn’t think women shouldn’t be allowed to drive at night, but a guy who, frankly, could have played a stripper with a cop uniform in the Magic Mike movies. Brown hair, dark eyes, the kind of square jaw that plays well on movie posters and cologne ads.
“Is there someone you can call?”
“No,” I said, “Okay? I just graduated college a couple months ago. It’s my first time moving out on my own. I’m working without a net here.”
“And you don’t want to call home and admit you need help? Miss Weaver, everyone needs help sometimes.”
“Home is six hours south of here. It’s not like my dad is going to miss work tomorrow to come up here and tell me my car needs to be towed and I should’ve made sure I had a place to stay before I took off. I got the internship at Envy. I worked so hard for it, and never dreamed I’d be chosen, and I got it. So here I am, trying to make it on my own,” I said, throwing my hands up in frustration, “I can’t afford a motel for more than one night and even that’s going to be a pain. If I had any friends nearby, I’d call them. I can’t call the HR lady from Envy at midnight two days before I start and beg for help. I’ll just handle this my way. Sleep in the car, get you to call me a tow truck in the morning. It’s the best way.”
“Ma’am, I can’t allow you to do that. It’s unsafe. Your vehicle could be struck by a passing car because it’s barely on the shoulder. It’s also possible that someone might come upon you alone and prey on you.”
“Like werewolves?” I said wryly.
“No. If you’re smart enough to score an internship at Envy, I’m sure you’re smart enough to know that your plan is shitty. I didn’t become a cop to leave stubborn people stranded by the side of the road in the middle of the night. We’re going to help you.”
“I’m not comfortable with that,” I said.
“And I’m not comfortable leaving you here. Do you want me to go get Brett out of the car? He insisted on staying there because he said two of us coming to your door would be intimidating. But he’s pretty big on keeping women safe, so I’ll wave him over and let him give you the stats on violence against women in this state.”
“I don’t have a boyfriend. And since most violence against women is committed by an intimate partner, I’m safe,” I said, growing more frustrated by the minute. I didn’t want to be treated like a helpless little kid.
“I wouldn’t try the smart mouth with him. He doesn’t have a sense of humor like I do,” Derek Jennings said, showing no trace of playfulness.
