Lowball

Galahad in Blue
Part Two

Apsara sashayed into the bullpen. Every male and even a few females paused to watch her progress. Everything was in motion, hips swaying, hair swinging, boobs bouncing. Last night that rack had been pressed against Franny’s bare chest, the hair wrapped around him mirroring her arms’ embrace. Franny was glad the desk hid his involuntary physical reaction. It was like being sixteen again. Next, he thought, I’ll break out, and my voice will start cracking.

As she drew closer Franny could see the beautiful oval face was set in lines of worry and alarm, and the dark eyes were wide. Franny suppressed the desire to sigh. Looked as if her phi-otherwise known as her pissant wild card power-was giving her hell again. As soon as she got close enough for him to be able to see it, her dark eyes filled with tears. She was the only woman he’d ever met who could cry and stay beautiful. No red nose, no snot on the upper lip. Franny steeled himself for whatever crisis had arisen.

“Frank.” Once they’d started dating she stopped calling him Franny. “I need to talk to you. Someplace private.” Her voice trembled a bit, and cynicism gave way to actual alarm. Maybe something serious had happened.

He led her outside because there was no place in the cop shop that he would have considered truly private. They settled on a bus stop bench. Franny shifted to face her. “Okay, honey, what’s wrong?”

“My parents,” she wailed. “They’re coming to visit.”

Blinking in confusion Franny asked, “Isn’t that a good thing? You said you really loved your folks.”

She nodded vigorously, tears flying off her outrageous eyelashes. “I do, but I told them I was a cop.”

“Well, you are sort of a cop. I mean, you work for the precinct.”

“No, a real cop. A decorated cop. With a badge. And a uniform. And a gun.”

Baffled, Franny stared at her for a few moments. “Why? Why would you do that?”

“Because they love me so much, and they’re so proud of me, and I haven’t done anything to earn that. If they find out I’m just a file clerk they’ll put on a brave face, but they’ll be so disappointed, and … and I just can’t bear that.” Her voice broke on a tiny little sob. Instinctively Franny gave her a hug and patted her on the back as she wept.

“Okay, I get the whole parent/child issue, I’ve got the famous cop father thing going on, but I’m not seeing how I come into this.”

As if a spigot had been turned the tears ended. She straightened and took his hands in hers. “So, I rented a uniform from a costume store, and I took an old retired badge out of storage and I’ve asked for a few days off, and you could do the same and we could be partners, and take my folks along like they did when that Hollywood actor came to town last year,” she ended in a rush.

Franny pulled his hands away and held them up palms out. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. First off, I can’t take time off right now. I’m in enough trouble as it is, and I’m not going to put back on my uniform and go out on the street with an untrained file clerk and a pair of civilians. That’s a good way to get us fired, and all of us hurt or worse. And didn’t you sleep with that actor guy?” he added, jealousy making him resentful even though they hadn’t been together back then.

“What if I did? I was with Moleka then, not you, so you shouldn’t care.”

“It’s the pattern, Apsara, that’s what bothers me.”

The bus farted up and with a creaking of brakes came to a stop in front of them. Four jokers flopped, crawled, and hopped off. The doors stayed open, and then the driver yelled, “You gettin’ on or not?” They shook their heads. “Then get off the damn bench!” The doors rattled shut and the bus pulled out, baptizing them with a blast of diesel fumes. Apsara and Franny retreated, coughing.

“So, you’re not going to help me,” she said once she caught her breath.

“If by help you, you mean play cops and robbers with you and your parents, then no, I’m not going to help you.”

“Will you at least keep my secret?”

“Are you going to be prancing around in this uniform?”

“Yes.” The word was defiant, an out-and-out challenge.

“You know it’s a crime to impersonate a police officer,” he said, still sparring, but more feebly now.

“I’m not going to arrest anybody. I’m just going to wear the uniform at dinner, and we’ll stay away from Jokertown so no one will see us.” She paused and looked up at him, big eyes pleading, the corners of her perfect lips drooping. “Please, Frank, let me make them proud.”

“I don’t know, and why do you need me along for this?”

“I need you to talk about all the cases I’ve solved. If you bring it up then it won’t look like I’m bragging.”

“And what cases would those be … exactly?”

“Well, there was The Stripper for starters, and you wouldn’t be lying because I helped you catch that guy.”

He didn’t love the reminder. He had just started working at the precinct when he’d solved the case of the teenage ace whose power was to blow a kiss and have the clothes disappear off the object of his gallantry. Bruce Cordova. That was his name. Some of the guys at the precinct had thought it would be hilarious to have Bruce remove Franny’s clothes day after day after day. It had been … for them.

And Apsara had helped catch The Stripper. She had been the luscious bait walking down the street. Franny had gotten only the smallest look at her attributes that day because he’d been busy arresting Bruce. Of course now he saw those attributes almost every night. He felt a stirring in his crotch. Apsara saw his boner forming. She gave a sly smile, and pressed up against him. “Please, Frank.”

All his resistance collapsed. “Well, okay, but so help me God, if you try to act like a real cop…”

“Oh thank you, thank you. You are the best boyfriend.” She rained kisses on his face. Franny finally caught her lips, and they shared a long deep kiss until the whistles and catcalls from passersby on the street drove them apart.