"You heard me, detective; plus, there's something in it for you," I couldn't help but stare at the man in front of me, confused by his words.
What the hell does that even mean? "You were there when the chief accepted my letter of resignation, not to mention that speech about everyone needing a long break from this kind of life as an agent." Looking at the crowd's reaction, I could see that I was raising my voice.
Not wanting to entertain a crowd of strangers, I turned around and marched into the bar, ignoring Sergeant O'Neal as he followed me like a shadow.
I took a seat right at the bar, disregarding him as he sat next to me while signaling the bartender that I was ready for a drink. "What can I get you?" she asked.
"Gimlet," I replied without hesitation.
"So, what now, Detective Reynolds? Is this how you plan to live for the rest of your life? Getting drunk while looking like a hobo?" Even though I was irritated by his words, I remained quiet enough to hear him out, trying to keep it together for the sake of that drink.
"Here's your Gimlet," the bartender said.
"Thanks," I replied, raising the glass to my mouth and taking a sip.
A sudden burst of flavors filled my mouth as the intoxicating liquid touched my tongue, momentarily making me forget about the presence beside me. "You're wasting your god-given talent over an accident that you or anyone else couldn't have seen coming. Not to mention, you almost lost your own life." Almost.
"Two more, Miss Tender," I said, finishing the drink before finally looking in his direction. "Why can't you just find someone else? There are plenty of others like me who can do a decent job." That's when I saw Sergeant O'Neal pull out a photo from his jacket pocket and gently push it across the table toward me.
"…"
"What time do I need to be at the office?" My voice cracked a little as I switched between emotions.
"I'll give you an hour to clean yourself up," he replied.
"Hmm," was all I could muster, not wanting my words to betray me as I picked up the photo I never thought I'd see again.
[Scene skip]
The sergeant and I stepped out of the bar, walking side by side in total silence. Thoughts I hadn't considered in years suddenly flooded back to me.
"There's one more thing I forgot to mention," he said as I closed the door behind him and stepped out a little faster.
"Whatever it is, I'm pretty sure it doesn't matter," I replied. "I'm only here for this single case, and nothing else matters."
"And here I went through all the trouble to mention that Mr. Justin needs his legs back. Since it doesn't matter, I guess it isn't necessary anymore, hmm?"
If only my words could explain the kind of emotion that rushed through my mind and body when he said that.
"What—" He immediately cut me off, saying he'd discuss the rest at the office and rolled up the window as he drove off, leaving me staring at the back of his car.
[Scene cut]
As I made it back to the door, I turned the knob and pushed it open. Justin stood there, staring silently, and I couldn't hold his gaze for long.
"What's going on?" he asked, but I couldn't answer him since his case was indeed classified. He grew angry again, but this time he held it in, which I found surprisingly impressive. What I found even more surprising was the fact that he walked over to the living room closet, pulled out a duffle bag, and dropped it in front of me.
"Leave, Rey. Never come into my life again!" I expected something like this would happen eventually, but reality is reality. So, I immediately picked up the bag, threw it over my shoulder, and walked back to the door. I couldn't help but chuckle at my sad and pathetic lifestyle. "I promise to do that after I get your legs to work again." Closing the door behind me, I never looked back.
©12/06/24
[ T.T.H]