Klutzy Love (4 page)

On Thursday, Ralph worked nonstop until after lunch. He came out and grumbled, “I keep finding spelling errors in the meeting minutes. How am I supposed to do my job with an incompetent assistant?”

I wondered if I was I supposed to answer that. He seemed to get grumpy and yell right before lunch every day. What if Ralph was hypoglycemic and needed to eat on a regular basis? The best test was to give him a snack and see if his mood improved. I forgot to restock the oranges in my drawer. There was a vending machine in the basement and I’d seen apples in it and they were probably nice and ripe by now.

Pete and I took a quick break and strolled down to the basement. I forwarded the phones to Nancy in Accounting. There. There was the perfect apple. It had probably been in the vending machine since the dawn of time. In fact, I didn’t think anyone had stocked the  vending machine in over a year, was  probably the reason it was in the basement—not in the cafeteria. Pete insisted it was perfectly fine and it was just an experiment. I left the vending machine behind and stopped by the cafeteria, where I bought a turkey and havarti sandwich for Ralph. It was fun to fantasize about Ralph getting sick though. He was such a bugger.

When I arrived back, Ralph paced in front of my desk with the ugliest scowl on his face. I sat down, woke up my computer, and asked sweetly, “Is there something wrong Ralph?”

“I’m trying to run a business here and I can’t to do that if don’t answer the telephones. If you aren’t able to do that simple task, then I’ll get someone who can.”

He was obviously stressed and needed food. “Here, eat this sandwich. You haven’t had lunch yet.”

He stomped his foot and demanded, “Where were you? I heard the phone ring four different times. People will think we’re out of business if nobody answers the phones.”

Inwardly I sighed and then calmly explained how the phone system worked. “The phones are answered 24/7. In case you’re not familiar with that term, it means the phones are answered twenty- four hours a day and seven days a week. After hours, there’s a phone service that picks up and I return the calls in the morning. When I go to lunch from noon to one, I forward the phones to Nancy in Accounting.

Mr. Langfield, do you have any more questions for me because as you can see, I have two calls to return. We wouldn’t want anyone to think I’m not doing my job, now would we?” Pete quietly applauded me.

Ralph walked away without another word— not even an apology.

“Man, he was mean to you.”

“Pete, he’s trying to learn a business and he has no skills. Let’s leave him alone.” I needed to share my day with someone other than Pete. It was time to call the girls.

CHAPTER SEVEN

I called Brenda and Kitty knowing they wouldn’t judge me. We set up dinner for 6:15 at Jerry’s Bar and Grill. Jerry’s was located in Pioneer Square and played the Blues four nights a week. The clientele could be a little rough, but nobody ever bothered us.

At 6:20, I circled the block a second time. Finding a parking spot was tough this time of night. All of a sudden, a prime spot opened a block away from Jerry’s. I pulled my sporty little red Mini Cooper into the spot as another car inched toward it. They honked, but I didn’t care: all’s fair in love and snagging an open parking spot in downtown Seattle.

Kitty and Brenda already claimed a prime booth and I made my way towards them. Jerry’s was the only establishment where we drank beer, not margaritas. The first time we ordered margaritas the waiter laughed at us. Cheerfully he told us, “Margaritas aren’t our specialty. You should stick to beer.” We took his advice because we’d gone there for the atmosphere, not the alcohol, anyway.

I stuck with a nice cold diet Coke and we munched on pretzels and listened to soothing Blues music. All of a sudden, my hunk radar started to bleep—like it did at Chico’s. I glanced around and my eyes landed on a guy who resembled Steve, behind the bar. This guy had a full beard, mustache, and small scar above his right eye, and to top it off, a scary tattoo on his right arm. It was an eagle with an arrow through it. Steve didn’t have any of those, but I recognized those sexy biceps.

Hmm, what should I do? The Steve
look-alike
poured beer and hadn’t noticed us yet. Steve could have a twin brother, which might explain the similar sexy arms. “Hey guys, I know this is hard to do, but could you discretely look at the bartender and tell me if you think it could be Steve?”

Brenda stared right at the bartender for a good thirty seconds, “Steve doesn’t have facial hair, tattoos, or a scar. Why would you think it’s him?” She was not discrete.

“If for no other reason than my nipples stood to attention the minute I laid eyes on him. Does that make sense?”

Kitty nodded in agreement. “I agree with Corny. That’s definitely Steve in a cool disguise. Maybe he’s working undercover.”

Brenda shook her head from side to side and munched on a pretzel. “I’m not convinced it’s him. Tell me more about this nipple reaction thing. I’ve never had it happen to me.”

I thought about it for a minute. “It starts with a tingling in my arms and the hairs stand straight up and then my nipples come to attention. It only happens when I’m near Steve; it must be him.”

Brenda finally understood. “Okay, if your nipples recognize him, then it must be him. Should we go say hi?”

“No, let’s observe for a while. We wouldn’t want to blow his cover.” Wow, I sounded like a detective already.

***

Steve thought he must have the worst luck in the world when Corny arrived with her crazy friends. He hoped he could make his bust and be done with this crappy assignment. She couldn’t possibly have known he’d be there. He’d backtracked several times to make sure he hadn’t left a trail. She tried to hide in the corner booth, but it was obvious she had checked him out. It better be because he looked familiar to her and not because she thought he was hot.

His undercover assignment was to fill in for the real drug-dealing bartender—skuzzy Bart. Steve arrested him on drug trafficking charges last week. If Bart gave the narcotics unit names, regular drop dates, and times, Steve would ask the prosecutor for a reduction in sentencing. It turned out Bart was a bigger dealer than they thought. He was in County Jail awaiting trial.

The department thought they should put an undercover cop at the bar to take Bart’s place and fill in until they could bust all the dirt bags. Because Steve’s undercover persona was a tough as nails drug dealer, he got assigned to the operation.

Bart put the word out to his buyers that ‘Buddy the Bruiser,’ would fill in while he recovered
from his car accident. The car crash was legitimate, because while Steve chased Bart down Interstate 5, he crashed into the guardrail and broke his leg. If they checked out Bart’s story, it would hold up.

Steve’s job was to close Stan McClousky’s operation and get his drugs off the street. Stan distributed to hundreds of guys like Bart. He sold all kinds of drugs and there was always a different drug available. Steve intended to bust Stan’s goons.

But he’d received a call from a reliable snitch who warned him, “Dude, Stan’s coming in to do the delivery himself. You better be careful man; he never does that.” The little hairs on the back of his neck sprung to life. Steve never ignored those hairs. It was out of character for the top dog to deliver himself. Stan was due in any minute and Steve started to get the feeling that this operation could go sideways real fast.

In the meantime, he sure hoped Corny wouldn’t recognize him. That would complicate things. He began to think it would take a lifetime to figure her out. Well, his luck had run out because he saw the exact moment Corny figured out who he was. Red and her two friends looked his way several times and then began to argue quietly.

What happened next, he couldn’t have predicted in a million years. It started in slow motion and then careened out of control. He’d passed a couple hits of X to a pimple-faced punk, when Stan walked in with two goons. When he saw bulges under their coats he knew they had major firepower. There was always the chance that skuzzy-boy Bart got scared and sent word to Stan that it was a set-up. The closer Stan got to the bar the more plausible that seemed because he looked furious. He was two hundred and fifty pounds of pure saturated fat and covered in sweat.

Why hadn’t he stayed away if he knew it was a set- up? The only thing Steve could come up with was that Stan was just plain nuts. An undercover cop had to be able to think fast on his feet during a crisis. He had an angry drug distributor, who most likely wanted him dead. He had a pimple-faced fool who was about to drop a love potion into a girl’s drink. Steve already had backup ready to bust the stupid kid.

Then he had Corny who spotted Stan and his goons and obviously figured out the situation, because she grabbed Brenda’s empty beer glass and headed Steve’s way with a determined look on her face.

He turned his back on all of it, made a gin and tonic, and called for immediate backup. His partner Kyle replied, “Hold down the fort, the cavalry’s on the way.”

Steve grabbed a bar-rag and moved to the end of the bar where the girl’s drink was drugged. Steve knocked the drink on the girl’s lap before she was able to take a sip. He bent forward to apologize and whispered in her ear, “Pretend to head to the bathroom to get cleaned up. That guy drugged your drink. Stay in the bathroom and I’ll call for an officer to drive you home “ She casually nodded and whispered, “Thank you.”

The smaller of the two goons pulled a 9mm out of his jacket and motioned for Steve to go through the door to the back room. He stayed cool and asked, “What is this? I can’t leave the bar unattended.”

The goon had a bad attitude and yelled, “Shut up!”

Steve got a quick right-fisted jab to his nose and a punch to his gut, as Corny and Kitty flew through the bar door.

Corny screamed at the top of her lungs like a banshee, “Leave him alone!” She jumped onto the goon’s back and hit him in the head with the empty beer glass. It would’ve been more effective if she’d thrown a beer at him. The guy tried to break Corny’s death grip. He shook her like a wet dog. Then he scurried backwards and slammed her into the concrete wall. Her eyes rolled back in her head, she dropped off and slid to the floor, unconscious.

Stan headed toward the back hallway. Kitty had hidden behind the pantry door and when he scurried by, she tripped him. He ended up sprawled on his fat belly, with his big ass stuck in the air. She took advantage of Stan’s vulnerability and hit him with 50,000 volts from her stun gun.

Steve’s backup broke through the door with guns drawn. If they hadn’t pulled him off the guy who hurt Corny, he would’ve mangled him.

After things settled down he glanced over at the larger goon who stood with his jaw hanging open. The guy looked as though he might laugh at Stan’s predicament, but he put his tough guy look back on. He hadn’t assaulted Steve, but he arrived with a known drug dealer and helped force him into the backroom at gunpoint. He’d let the DA decide whether to file criminal charges or release him.

The medics told Steve that Stan would survive the stun gun—
BUT
would be extremely uncomfortable for quite a while. If Corny hadn’t been hurt, he would’ve laughed.

Corny came to when the medics loaded her into the ambulance, and mumbled, “What happened to me? Why is my head pounding?” Then she saw him and started crying, which made her wince in pain. The medics informed him, “She has a big goose egg on the back of her head. We’re taking her to the hospital to get checked out.”

“Steve, are you coming to the hospital with me?”

“Honey, there isn’t room in the ambulance for both of us. But I’ll be right behind you, okay?”

Steve’s partner spoke up, “We’ll take care of the paperwork and you can go ahead to the hospital. You can fill in the details later—like why all of those crazy women were involved in your operation. Stan’s going to be charged with the attempted murder of a cop, along with the drug charges. We’ll be able to put him away for a long time. The guy who hurt Corny is being treated for a concussion. We’ll try to get him to roll over on Stan. Hey, all in all it was a good bust. Who’s the girl with the stun gun? She’s pretty hot.”

“She’s one of Corny’s best friends—stay away from her lover boy. I need to go talk to Kitty and Brenda. I’ll see you later buddy.”

They sat at the bar drinking coffee. “Hey Kitty and Brenda, are you guys okay? That was pretty good handiwork with the stun gun, but in the future, let the police handle those kinds of things.”

“I was a little worried because it was low on power, but it worked okay.” Kitty reached into her cavern of a purse for a piece of paper and wrote a reminder to purchase a car charger, then wrote some phone numbers down on another piece of paper. “Here, we’ve already given our personal information to the detective, but you can have it too, in case you want our help again… ha ha.”

“I hope it doesn’t
ever
come to that again. Here’s my cell number, and office number, in case you need to get ahold of me. I’m heading over to the hospital to see hard-headed Corny.” Then Steve grimaced at the amount of paperwork he had to fill out because of all his unwanted help.

“Hey Steve, what’s with that guy over there? The detective said he didn’t assault anybody, but he’s in hand cuffs. What’s your take on him?” Brenda had her eyes on the large goon.

“He’s a criminal. Stay away from him.”

“Sure, okay. We’ll see you at the hospital.”

As he turned to leave Brenda headed toward the goon and Kitty smiled at his partner. Cripes, this was a strange night.

CHAPTER EIGHT

On the way to the hospital, Steve decided he needed to have a serious talk with Corny about what happened. He wouldn’t survive Corny getting hurt again. She shouldn’t have rushed to the rescue. That’s what
he
did for a living.

One of Corny’s friends must have called her family because the emergency room was filled with all shapes and sizes of Myers. Corny mentioned she had a big family—but wow! He kept his distance; he didn’t wanted to upset them anymore than necessary.

When Kitty and Brenda showed up, they wanted to introduce him to Corny’s family. Her mom and dad seemed to know who he was, but he was disappointed to find out that she hadn’t mentioned him to her brothers. Was he more serious about her then she was about him? They all wanted to know how she got hurt and how he was involved.

He was saved when the doctor when came out and announced, “Corny has a concussion and she’ll need to stay the night for observation.”

Her family shot off questions like crazy. The biggest of her brothers asked, “Do you think she has brain damage?”

The other brother replied jokingly, “Geez, she was born brain-damaged; how would you know the difference?” They all laughed and a bit of the tension disappeared.

Steve snuck off to see Corny before her family descended. The hospital staff moved her to a private room for the night. He knocked on the door and heard a faint, “Come in.” He wanted to be tender, but all he could think about was it should’ve never happened. He went over to the bed and gently took her hand. “How are you doing, sweetie?”

He could tell it took a great effort, but she firmed up her chin and answered, “I’m okay. The mean doctors said I have to stay the night. Can you break me out of this joint?”

Steve admired her grit. “Corny, I would if I could, but you need to stay the night to make sure the brick wall didn’t do any permanent damage to that cute noggin of yours.” He knew he should wait to ask her why she was at the bar, but the cop in him couldn’t wait. “Honey, what were you doing at Jerry’s Bar and Grill? The place is a dive.”

“Once in a while, we meet for beers and I guess it was bad timing on our part. It didn’t take me long to recognize you, but we weren’t going to bother you. Maybe flirt a little. After I figured out that it was you and not a sexy look-a-like, I saw those guys arrive and then one of them pulled a gun on you. I couldn’t stand by and let you get shot. I grabbed a bar glass and told Kitty and Brenda to stay put—did they listen? No! When I saw that jerk hit you I saw
red
and that’s all I can remember. I should have used my ‘
when men attack move.’
I’m sleepy; I think I’ll take a little nap.”

Oh boy, the concussion must have scrambled Corny’s brains. She mumbled on about an attack move. Then her family piled into her room and he told them he’d be back to check on her later. He figured her family would be there for a couple of hours and he needed to go to the station and get caught up on his paperwork. The guys would never let him live this day down. Today would forever be known as the day Sergeant Steve Spears had to have two girls help him apprehend criminals.