Page 56 of Hearts of Fairlake

"And most of it is getting poured right back into the business," I said with a shrug. "I've got overtime and bonuses to pay and paid time off for the week after the festival. And then there's covering the costs of operating as well. There’ll probably only be about a fourth of that left...maybe a little more."

"Well, it's a good thing you were never in business to get rich," he said with a snort. "Though, if we're being honest, we both know damn well that even a fourth is impressive."

His logic was irrefutable, I'd give him that much. I hadn't gone into this business to get rich. The handyman side had come first because I needed work, and originally, I could work out of my parents' house without needing anything more than a business license. The custom furniture came after realizing there was a market for it and because it was something I adored doing. Money was all well and good, especially when you were married with kids and plenty of bills, but doing what I loved and getting paid for it? Priceless.

Except it wasn't just the passion and love of what I was doing; it was pretty lucrative, especially in an area that wasn't known for its wealth. Business was still booming, and it had just gotten a major boost, with the city putting in a massive order. All in all, we were doing well, and by carefully putting the money away and a bit of investment, the future for us and our kids was looking great.

Only as we pulled out of the parking lot did I realize it wasn't strictly necessary for me to go with Bennett. For a moment, I tried to remember why I was in the car in the first place and glanced over at him in confusion. Bennett was off in his own world, leaning back with one arm on the wheel and the other resting on the door while he steered smoothly.

My brow rose as I watched him, noticing how I could see his arm muscles shifting ever so slightly as he turned the wheel, fingers tightening their grip unconsciously as he took the corner. Eyes sliding down, I smirked as I watched him try to spread his legs to get more comfortable before remembering he was too tall to spread out and closing his legs again, making his thighs flex against the fabric of his pants.

"Something up?" he asked absently.

I slid my hand over his thigh, squeezing it before moving it to rest on his crotch. “So, we don't have any supply closets at home, but..." His grin told me all I needed to know.

TREVOR

"Alright," I barked, looking at the assembled officers as they chatted merrily, filling the main room of the precinct with their noise. "Everyone shut up and listen to me. That goes double for you, Livington."

Unsurprisingly, Bennett grinned at me. “Particularly the shut up part?"

"Exactly," I grunted. The man had been driving me batshit for years, but no one could claim he was stupid. Impulsive, too playful, and full of mischief, but not stupid.

"Shutting up," he said, pushing his chair back from anyone near him, and for a moment, I could almost forgive him for getting on my nerves. He was making sure he wasn't tempted to make any side comments by putting distance between him and anyone who might tempt him to talk. Sometimes, I couldn't tell if he was maturing with age or if his husband had finally had a calming effect on him. Then again, from what I'd seen of some people, especially those who already had a good head on their shoulders and a good heart, having kids made a difference.

"Good," I grunted. "Because I'm only going to say this once, and then it's back to business."

Well, as back to business as we could get currently. The town was in a frenzy over the anniversary festival, especially at the administrative level. While the townspeople were simply excited for all the fun, the rest of us responsible for ensuring everything was set were ready for everything to be over. I had never been so jealous of Ethan, probably curled up in bed as I stood before my officers.

"The festival starts at ten tomorrow morning," I began, looking around to ensure everyone was paying attention. I was in no mood to deal with anyone deciding they'd rather be on their phones than listening. "And it will go all the way to midnight. The following day, it's noon till ten. Of course, those are the official hours but we all know it will go on much longer than that for the average person."

"Just the partiers," someone piped up.

"That's some of who we're going to see, so get ready for the drunks, both sweet and nasty. And be prepared for the minors sneaking out to roam around without supervision. Remember, the mayor has put in a curfew for anyone under eighteen this weekend. So if you see one roaming around after the festival's official hours, send them packing."

"How are we supposed to know?"

"Get their ID. We'll have things posted that if you want to be out after midnight tomorrow and after ten the next day, you had better have ID, or you're being sent packing."

"And if they refuse?"

"Make sure they don't. Use whatever you have at your disposal. There's a damn high chance that our jail is going to need every cell. And while Fovel has agreed to take our overflow, I don't want to fill their jail. Keep arrests strictly for people who pose a danger to other festivalgoers, not delinquent teens and people who are too rowdy, understood?"

There was a momentary flash of pleasure at the mention of Fovel, and it wasn't just because the relatively new chief of police there was an upstanding woman I enjoyed a friendly relationship with. No, I was still bitter and petty enough that even five years later, thinking of her predecessor and where he'd ended up still gave me a little tingle of pleasure. Barty Durkins had been a professional and personal pain in my ass for years. If anything required cooperation between us, he made sure to put as many roadblocks in my way, all with that stupid grin on his face that professed he was ignorant of what he was doing.

So yes, if I got a little pleasure from the fact that the dirty bastard was locked up in prison, then I considered myself in the right. Both Fairlake and Fovel, as well as the surrounding area, were still feeling the effects of his explicit help with the meth manufacturing and trade in the area. While we were left to clean up his mess, I hoped he had a nice stay for the next decade and a half in federal prison, though personally, I thought he deserved to rot for longer.

"So basically," Bennett began, and I braced for whatever was about to come out of his mouth, "we're there to try to keep people in line and only lock up those who are really going to be a handful."

"Oversimplified, but yes," I said. "Even with the boys and girls from Fovel coming over to help, we're going to have our hands full. All estimations point toward the town having more people in it than any of us have seen in a lifetime. Which means we're going to need to be alert, attentive, and prepared for just about anything. If we fuck up, then it's my head on the chopping block, and if you think for one minute, I won't come down on the ones who screwed up, then you've clearly forgotten who I am."

At least half a dozen things were bound to go wrong. I knew that much. The inevitability of a screw-up didn't meanI wanted them to drop their guard, so I needed them to know I wasn't screwing around. When something went wrong, I needed them on top of their game to keep things under control. And if they did their best with what they had, then any fallout was something I would handle. But if they were the ones who screwed the pooch, I was not going to go easy on them.

"I know I've already mentioned this...several times, but I need every one of you to look over the duty rosters and see where you're going to be and when," I said, arching a brow. "And since I already told you about that before, if you have any questions, then you need to ask them now because I'm not going to be in the mood after tonight."

A hand went up, and I gestured for the question. “Any reason we have such a split between those positioned in the town and those positioned at the festival?"

I snorted. “Well, Williams, why the hell would I have someone like you positioned away from people as opposed to a holding pattern away from everyone else."

---