He managed, with Mack’s help, to get his wallet out of his pants pocket.
After Carmichael verified his information, the man explained how astonished he’d been at the quality of his drink. Which had led to some friendly competition with his friends over who had the best order.
“And that devolved into you five beating the crap out of each other?”
“Betty started it!” Buddy pointed to a petite blond sitting in a dress covered in her own vomit. She had crazy curls half-plastered to her head and a swollen left eye that would grow darker with time. “She slugged me. See this?” He pointed to the blood crusting his ear.
Mack started attending to it, gloved up and loving the way this Thursday night was shaping up.
“She bit me,” a petite brunette slurred.
Mack paused, exchanged a glance with Carmichael, then continued to bandage Buddy. It took another twenty minutes before he and Reggie had finished attending to everyone. While Reggie helped two of the more amicable patients needing care into their med unit, Carmichael’s partner put three of the others into the back of their squad car.
Mack and Carmichael stood in the back lot between both vehicles, watching.
“Nice uniform,” Mack said.
She turned to him with a glare. “Excuse me?”
“It’s not dirty, like your soccer uniform was. This one looks nice and clean. You managed to steer clear of Betty’s vomit. Nicely done.”
Carmichael gave him a rare grin. “I noticed you got lucky too. Though your boots are pretty crusty.”
“Yeah. I stepped right into a puddle of Bud and vermouth, apparently. Spiked with blood and saliva. Good stuff.”
She looked Mack over. Lingering on his shoulders, perhaps?
“Offer’s still open,” Mack said, conscious of her partner and Reggie within hearing distance.
“Oh?”
“If you ever need help getting clean.”
Her partner’s head shot up, and he narrowed his sights on Mack.
Carmichael snorted. “You’re still an idiot.”
“Although maybe we should go out this weekend instead. To settle a bet.”
“A bet?” Her eyes turned frosty, well, colder than the light snowfall of gray coming down.
“To see which drink is the best. Betty really has no idea what she’s talking about.”
Officer Carmichael blinked. “She doesn’t?”
“Hell no. Moscow mule is the real winner. Or a White Russian if you’re into Kahlua. Are you?”
Out of the corner of his eye, Mack noticed her partner smother a grin. Reggie poked his head out the back of the aid truck. “Hey, Mack, we need to go. Get your flirt on faster. You can drive. Buddy’s telling me about a bet he made with Elvis concerning snakes, vodka, and a waffle iron.” The back door closed behind him.
Carmichael’s partner sighed and said, “Yeah, Cass. We need to get back and get out on the street again. Especially before one of these drunks in the back throws up in the car. It’s a full moon all right.”
Mack nodded at him. “Right? This one’s worse than last month. The stories I could tell you…”
The cop narrowed his eyes. “You look familiar.”
“Well, not only did I kick your partner’s ass on the soccer field, but my brother works in your precinct. Xavier Revere. I’m Mack. The smarter, better-looking brother.”
“Ah, right.” The guy grinned. “Jed Karsten, Cass’s amazing partner. Who’s going to get his ass reamed when she puts them both behind. She’ll have to talk to you later.”
