“Oh yeah, hi,” I drawl. “I’m sorry. I didn’t catch your name last time?” I’m going to need a name to put on the restraining order if this guy doesn’t stop bothering me. Not that I’m sure that’s what this even is. “I’m Rhea.”
“Yeah, Devon told me who you are after you guys left Gran’s place that day you arrested my friend’s crazy ex. I’m Aiden.”
That’s good enough for me. I can get his last name out of Devon later, before I go to the precinct to process the paperwork. If I can bring myself to do it, that is. He doesn’t seem dangerous, so maybe he won’t need an official restraining order? And I suppose, if he’s friends with Devon, he might not actually be a scary stalker. Aside from him showing up all the time, my gut doesn’t tell me that this guy is dangerous. I still don’t want him to ask me out right now, though.
“Nice to see you again, Aiden. But I really need to get going. I’ve got a lot to do today. Bye-bye now,” I say, and start walking away a little faster than normal.
“Oh, I just need to ask you something real quick. I was wondering if—”
“Nope, sorry. No time. I have to run,” I interrupt him, and then I literally start running. Maybe he’ll actually get the hint this time and just leave me alone. Even if he is cute, I don’t need to stick around talking to someone who can’t take no for an answer.
Chapter 4
Aiden - Maybe I Should Do Something About That?
“Was that Rhea?” Devon is standing beside me suddenly, as I stand watching the strangest woman I’ve ever met run away from me. Again. “Why is she running?”
“I don’t know, man,” I say, scratching my head. “I was just coming to grab a coffee at Bump & Grind and I found her sitting here on the sidewalk, crying. I helped her up, then she asked my name and ran away. It’s totally bizarre.”
“Oh shit, she was crying? I better let Xena know. Come on, maybe she’ll give us free coffee if you’re with me. Lord knows I can’t get any on my own.”
Bump & Grind is just a short walk from where we’re standing. Rhea must’ve just left if the carafe she was carrying was any indication. I wonder why she needs so much coffee? Bringing it to the precinct, maybe? Or going on a stakeout?
I never understood drinking coffee on stakeouts. Wouldn’t that just increase the likelihood that you’d need to piss in a bottle? Plus, women can’t piss in bottles. What would they do?
“Honey, I’m home,” Devon calls out as we enter the coffee shop that Denise’s best friend Xena owns. I’ve been getting coffee here for years and I had no idea that my band’s manager was such good friends with the feisty little owner. I’ve been in here a time or two when she started swinging her rubber sword at someone for calling her ‘Warrior Princess’. That was some funny shit.
“Ugh, why are you back already? It’s only been five minutes since I got rid of you last time.” Xena wipes her hands on a towel. “Hey Aiden, the usual?”
“Please,” I say, throwing five dollars on the counter. I just get regular drip coffee. None of those fancy drinks for me. Too sweet for my tastes. I’d rather eat Johnny’s baked treats if I’m having something sweet. And I still have some left at home from the stuff he brought me yesterday. I accidentally missed a box when I brought the other stuff to the shelter, it’s not like I purposely kept it for myself.
“So we have a minor situation.” Devon puts five dollars on the counter beside mine. I guess Xena knows his regular order too, because she doesn’t even ask before pouring another of what I’m having. “Aiden just ran into Rhea down the street. She was sitting on the sidewalk and crying, apparently.”
“I knew it!” Xena yells, throwing the money into the cash register and slamming it shut. “I knew she was too calm after getting such terrible news. I need to call someone in to cover for me. That girl needs tequila and a girls’ night, not coffee and job searching.” Xena pulls her phone out of her apron pocket and starts frantically swiping the screen.
“Job searching? Why would she be job searching?” Not that I care that much. She’s brushed me off more times than I can count. I keep trying to ask if she’d be interested in helping teach some self-defence classes at the shelter and she keeps avoiding me completely. She’s been quite the bitch about it, if I’m being honest. Who turns and runs away from someone in the middle of a conversation?
Not that I’ve minded watching her walk away. She certainly looks amazing in everything she wears.
The sight of her crying there on the sidewalk, though. That made something stir in my chest. Something that I’m not willing to investigate.
“Well, she made a political mistake a few months ago. She and Kaden got called to a domestic disturbance and when they arrived, the dude shoved his wife down the stairs right in front of them. So Rhea arrested him.”
“Good for her. I probably would have pushed him down the stairs first, but arresting him is pretty good too.”
“Funny you should mention that,” Devon says, stirring sugar into his coffee. “Apparently, the guy is friends with the mayor. Long story short, he claimed she used excessive force, and now she’s been fired.”
“Well, the guy’s wife and Kaden have made witness statements, right? Or can’t she appeal?”
“The wife won’t press charges, and Kaden’s word means nothing if the wife doesn’t corroborate it. And Rhea’s used up all of her appeals already. There’s nothing else she can do.”
I stir a little sugar and cream into my coffee, trying to think of another way Rhea could get back on the force. It doesn’t seem fair that she was doing her job, and helping an abused woman, and now she’s fired because the guy happens to know someone. This just confirms my suspicions that the law enforcement system is flawed, and the laws rarely favour the victims of domestic violence. It certainly never helped me when I was a kid. And even when the victims press charges, they frequently don’t get justice. It’s why I started my little ‘side business’. Well, my side hobby, anyway.
It’s not like I get paid.
“So what’s this guy’s name, anyway?”
“Oh no, no way. If anything happens to that guy, who do you think will be the first to get blamed? You stay away from him.” Xena covers the mouthpiece of her phone and chastises me in a loud whisper. “She has enough trouble in her life right now without being suspected of an actual crime.”
