Page 86 of Man Cuffed
“Hmm?” he turns around.
“I know you haven’t decided yet about the new victims’ taskforce. My application has been complete for a few weeks already. But I just wanted you to know how much Iwantthat job. I’d do good work. And I’m the right man for it.”
He smiles. “Glad you finally spoke up,” he said. “Thought you were going to make me give it to Tommy.” He swats me on the arm again. “He keeps asking for it, but he’s not the right fit.”
“Uh…” All my new chatter deserts me.
“Sometimes you gotta speak up and ask for what you want, you know?” the chief says. “Otherwise I can’t tell who really has the fire inside to make it work.”
“I do,” I sputter. “I want to help those people. I want to be the one they call when they’re scared.” It’s not very eloquent, dammit. What would Danny say? “I’m the right man for this job, and I won’t let you down.”
The chief nods. “Great. My assistant will have an offer in your box by the end of the week.” Then he turns and walks away. And I just stand there in the hallway for a minute, blinking after him.
“Holy shit,” I say after a minute. I walk toward the briefing room in a daze. I pull out my phone.Holy shit, I text to Meg. She’s probably still sleeping. My girl likes to wake up late.I used your trick. What would Danny say? And it worked. Not just a little bit, either. I think I just got my promotion.
We are going to have to celebrate. Right away.
* * *
At ten p.m.I’m bouncing around my apartment, waiting for Meg to get home from her shift at the bar. She didn’t have to close tonight, at least. But I’m not a patient man.
I am, however, a hungry man who’s made a kickass dinner and can’t wait to eat it. I’ve marinated some fish filets, and the water is boiling for fresh Michigan sweet corn. The salad has a homemade dressing, and I even baked some rolls just so I’d have something to do with my hands while I waited for her.
The whole setup is awfully domestic. I’m waiting here in a freaking apron, for fuck’s sake. But Meg doesn’t scare me like so many other women do. She gets me. We have a good time. I still don’t know if I’m capable of being someone’s other half. But Meg makes me want to find out. Test the waters, as they say.
So here I am with my homemade meal, listening for her knock at the door.
When it finally comes, I almost don’t hear it, because I’m singing along to some jazz on the radio.
“Maguire!” she yells through my thin front door. “I can hear you. How come you can’t hear me?”
I run over to the door and fling it open. “Sorry, Trouble. Come in.”
She does, and immediately flings herself into my arms. “Congratulations, Copper! I’m so excited for you!”
I grip her tightly to my chest, because she feels perfect there. “I’m pretty psyched,” I admit. “He said all I had to do was ask.”
“Some things are just that easy,” she says, kissing my jaw.
“I guess.” I’m not the kind of man to trust it, though. “Can I cook the fish, now? I’m dying here.”
“Oh, sure. I suppose you can feed me a gourmet meal. If you really want to.” She dances farther into my apartment. “Can I shuck the corn?”
“Already done. But if you want to peel some things off, you can start with your clothes.” I give her a cheesy wink.
“Feed me first.” She tosses her bag on my sofa. “And there must be something I could do to help.”
“Pour the wine?” I grab my fish and carry it out onto the deck, where the grill is already hot. I carried a small table out here and set it for two. There’s even a candle in the center, because I’ve clearly lost my mind.
I wonder if optimism is addictive? Am I gonna end up in a twelve-step program, jonesing for my next impossible hit of good news?
When I glance back into the kitchen to see Meg smiling at me as she pours the wine, I don’t think I care that much.
* * *
“Yum!”Meg says for the tenth time. “This food is so good I want to marry it.”
“Fine, but youcannotthrow the reception on a boat.”
