Page 57 of Phoenix

“I asked her, not you.” I turn my eyes back to her. “Are you okay?”

She’s shaking like a leaf and her eyes are watering. She’s absolutely not okay.

“Why don’t you mind your goddamn business, pretty boy? Back the fuck off.” He places a hand on my chest and shoves me backward, sending me colliding with others as they have begun to form a crowd around us.

“Hey! Keep your fucking hands to yourself!” Grayson shouts, before he shoves the very angry giant in retaliation.

“Greg!” the young woman shouts. “Please, just stop. Let’s go, okay? We can go. I’m so sorry,” she says to us.

The man, now named Greg, grabs her by the face and sneers something I can’t hear, but all I see are her tears.

“Get your hands off of her. I’ll ask you once,” I say, stepping forward.

“What the fuck are you going to do, pretty boy?” he says, spitting when he talks.

I look to Grayson. “Should I ask him again?”

“Nah. Take him down.”

“That’s what I thought.”

I reach out quickly, grabbing his wrist and pulling it toward me, spinning it around his back and pressing my knee into the backs of his thighs, sending him buckling to the ground, just as I would any suspect.

He tries to fight, but when his face presses into the concrete, and my knee goes on the small of his back, he stops resisting.

“You’re drunk, disorderly, and openly threatening physical harm.” I look up, hoping someone has alerted security, so I can actually follow through on that threat—and lucky me—I see two armed police officers approaching as people applaud all around us.

“Let this be a lesson, fucker,” I say to him. “Don’t be a fucking drunk asshole, and respect women.”

“Fuck you,” he slurs from his mouth, which is nicely pressed into the concrete.

After speaking with the officers about what happened, and our drunk friend putting up more of a fight, he’s arrested for public intoxication and disturbing the peace.

Karma, asshole.

“Can you ever go anywhere without being a hero?” Grayson asks.

“What can I say? It's in my blood.” We go to leave when a hand grabs my arm.

“Excuse me?” a small voice says.

I turn around to see the woman who was involved with Greg.

“I want to say thank you,” she explains.

“It’s not needed. Do you have a way home?” I ask her, not knowing her situation.

“Yes, the police officers are helping me. I don’t know what tomorrow brings, but I’ve never had a man do that for me before. Most people just stare when my husband gets like that.” She looks down.

Her husband? This poor woman.

“Well, I hope you are able to stay safe. The police department in this area is a good one. If you ever need any help, call the downtown precinct and ask for Rodgers. He’s my friend. Tell him Case Carmichael said he could help.”

She seems to relax a little, for the first time since I saw her. She’s never had anyone in her corner.

This. This is exactly why I became a cop.

To be the help people need in the scariest times.

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