I'm a Juvenile Delinquent, I Can't Fall for a Cop!

I sat on the couch, glasses on and flipping through the ‘untouchable’ criminals’ profiles. It’s been half a year since I’ve joined ‘the force’ and 4 months since we put away Lastorino. My least favorite part was dressing up like a stripper. I love my black-blue-purple attire, so needless to say, shiny red leather is not for me. I played with the corner of Caleb Travers’s picture, an attractive young son of a certain weed dealer that always managed to destroy evidence before it was confiscated. I can work with this, I mused, a smirk crossing my lips.

I pair of hands covered my eyes, blocking out the light. I snapped the binder shut and swung it over my head like a flyswatter. “Ow!” I turned around and smacked said giant fly on the shoulder. “OW! Lyara, stop!” I nailed Deyton one more time in the shoulder for good measure before flopping back into my dent in the couch and turning back to Travers. I would definitely rather hit him in the face but the loss of any more brain cells could potentially turn him into a vegetable.

“Why are you so violent?” he complained, shaking his head before dropping down beside me. I shrugged.

“If you’d just announced your presence, you would only get a snarky comment. Don’t sneak up on me.” I’d beaten him thrice with a book now, so you’d think he’d know by now… I held the binder just out of reach from his attempt to snatch it before adjusting myself and leaning on him to let him see the page. Yes, we’d come quite a long way. Now I’m only violent 80 percent of the time. “This one.” I leaned back and waited as he peered at the page.

“You just want to flirt with this kid cause you think he’s hot.”

“Not as much as you did with that prostitute last Sunday,” I scoffed.

“She was innocent-” I scoffed even louder “-and just needed someone to talk to!”
“That girl wasn’t forced to do anything- and it’s just a little poorly played how she was moaning when we were outside and burst into victimized tears when she finally realized we were there…”

We argued for the next hour and ended up taking it outside, fighting all of our energy out before coming back in for food. What usually happened was that I bossed him around the kitchen doing simple tasks like boiling water or heating up food, while I took care of the rest. Pierre and Matthew came by on occasion, and Carson once. For the most part, we ate a fresh and delicious dinner, but in front of the TV or some form of reading for me. Sometimes the computer. I’d become more used to the three of them, but I wasn’t sure how much I actually liked them. It had definitely been a change from living on my own.

I played with a bread roll as I thought about it. Taking down criminals wasn’t terrible but I’d prefer it to be by my own choice. When it came down to the action, I did love the challenge. And I did love the shooting range that I now had access to. Carson was slightly wary of letting me go, but I pointed out that the alternatives would probably appeal to him even less. Leaning forward, I looked into my bank account. Nothing about me was really black and white on paper, but I had curbed most of my extreme criminal activities and was on a tentative payroll. It was definitely strange. My parents left me money, which I was now legally entitled to, so I had enough to live comfortably even if I didn’t have a job. But for now, ‘work’ was paying for my living expenses well enough. I was only given the option of choosing one car- and had very begrudgingly agreed to stay with a Black Lotus Exige.

“So we’re agreed on Travers?” I looked up at Deyton as I pulled up my email, which was already poised to be sent to King Cop.

“Do I get a choice?” His brown-hazel eyes narrowed at me in mock anger.

“Not unless you want to eat your own cooking for the rest of the time we live together,” I answered with a sweet smile as I hit Send.