The adrenaline was fading fast and I was exhausted. Thoughts of how very wrong this afternoon could have gone flooded my head. Lucky for me, however, I wasn't left alone with my thoughts for too long after being escorted to a precinct along with everyone else caught in the raid.
"Care to explain what you were doing in an underground casino, hanging around known members of the mafia, with over 800 million dollars' worth of stolen art in it?" the fed asked.
"Look, agent whoever you are, no I don't have mafia ties. I'm not your big whale. I did not engage in any illegal activities. I'm a wedding photographer, that's how basic I am. Also, you're welcome. If it weren't for me tipping my dad off, your bust would have been a bust. How long have you people been planning this raid? Based on how long you dragged your feet before you actually showed up, they still somehow almost one upped you, didn't they? Badge number J638493. If you want me to say another word, that's who I'll talk to," I said, leaning forward on the table in the interrogation room, my fingers interlocked.
She set a file down and opened it up in front of me anyway. I sighed, throwing my hands up as she continued her line of questioning.
"J638493," I repeated to her, for the umpteenth time. "Tell Jeff to make himself useful and get his innocent son out of here."
"You may not be guilty of anything criminal, but with a mouth like that, you're definitely not innocent," she said, getting out of her chair after thirty minutes of asking me questions I refused to answer.
"J638493," I repeated, just as my dad came through the door.
"I got this, Tanya," said my father, a disapproving scowl already on his face. "You have a lot of explaining to do, Scott," he said, taking Tanya's place.
"Gladly. All yours," she said, smacking the file against my dad's chest.
"We don't do explanations, Jeff. We do christmas cards and awkward texts," I said, already feeling myself getting upset. "I should have let them lock me up."
"Let's begin at the beginning, shall we? The faster you tell me what you know—"
"Get real, Jeff. Even if I had turned into a gangster over the last seven years, you don't have shit. I can see that being possible from your point of view though, since you have seen me, what, five times in all that time? I don't owe you anything. Let them hold me as long as they can and then send me home," I said, looking at him with disdain.
"Alright smartass, you want to play hardball? Fine. I'll call home and tell your mom that our son is being held in connection with a raid. Is that what you want?" my dad asked.
"Do what you want. That's what you do, right, Jeff? Dump all the shit you can't handle at someone else's feet," I threw back at him. "Leave your wife and two children behind at the drop of a hat for some—"
"Watch yourself and it's dad," he said with a sigh. "Look Scott, I'm just trying to help. Just tell me what you know."
"You lost them. You lost Don Cattaneo and Luca. That's why you're in here bothering with the rest of us," I concluded.
"Worse. Marcus Cattaneo was found dead a few minutes ago. It's looking like a car accident, but we haven't ruled anything out yet. The other driver is missing and you were one of the last people to see him alive," said my dad.
My mind instantly went to Stacy and Willow. Were they okay? Were they safe? I needed to get home.
"Fine. What do you want to know?"
My responses to the questions he asked me were vague and I didn't volunteer anything, just like he'd taught me to do. For the most part, I stuck to the truth. In another life, I would have been an FBI agent, just like him. That is until he left us high and dry for a woman almost half his age after cheating on my mom like some fucking walking midlife crisis.
I kept Stacy, Kenny and Willow out of it, pretending I had gotten the invitation from Kenny, who had gotten it because of work. No matter how bad things were between us, I didn't want to lie to my dad, but I couldn't very well tell him the truth either.
It was already after eight by the time my dad cleared me to leave.
"Keep mom out of this. Your word, dad," I said, as I waited outside for my Uber.
"Just, stay out of trouble. Okay?"
"Whatever. Thanks for coming to get me."
"Maybe you and I can get some dinner," he said, hesitant.
"Let's not. This day has been bad enough as it is."
I watched him walk away with a heavy heart. I was a mess. All I wanted was to hear Stacy's voice. So I called her while I waited for the Uber.
"Scott? Where are you?" her anxious voice came over the phone.
"Dude, are you okay?" Kenny chimed in.
"I'm good, guys. Just walked out of a police station. I'll be home soon," I said, straining to keep the emotion of having seen Jeff for the first time in two years out of my voice. "Did Willow make her flight?"
"Yes. She landed a while back," said Stacy. "Scott? What's wrong?"
"Don Marcus is dead," I said, trying to throw her off the trail. "Are you okay?"
"I heard. It was big news. Kenny covered it for his channel. Ended up getting an even bigger scoop than he imagined. Are you sure you're okay?" she asked, her voice concerned.
There was no fooling her. Just then, my Uber arrived. I got into the car, closed the door and said to her, "Just keep talking."
She was quiet for a moment before she said, "So, you kissed me. Twice."
And it was the worst thing I could have done. The worst part? I was such a fucked up mess that if I went home tonight and she was there waiting for me, I would likely do more.
"So I did. Strictly platonic, don't marry some other guy/I might die kisses. Do those really even count?" I said, my pulse climbing as I waited to hear her answer.
Why the fuck did I say some other guy, like I wanted her to marry me instead?
"Well they did to me. Everything that's happened over the last two days… I don't do stuff like that. You're not just anyone," she said and I could have cried, because it was everything I wanted to hear and everything I didn't.
"You know what? I met my dad at the precinct and he wants to have dinner. I might just crash at his place," I said, hating every word.
I could feel her hopes dash despite her not saying a word, but I couldn't be around her right now.
"Okay. I guess I'll see you tomorrow then?"
"Sure. Tomorrow."
With that, I ended the call and changed my destination to a nearby motel. Once I got into the room, I stripped down to my undies and got into bed. I was ready for sleep to take me. Instead, on instinct, I checked my phone one more time.
Stacy: You up?
Scott: It's not even nine. Of course I'm up.
Stacy: Kenny met some chick at the crime scene. I give it six weeks, tops.
I smiled at this.
Scott: Kenny needs better friends than us. I say they go the distance. Same bet as last time?
Stacy: Too easy. You're on.
Stacy: Since when are you such a romantic?
Since losing her became possible. Since she said that she might walk out of my life.
Scott: Honestly? Since I won you in a poker game. I thought I was very valiant.
Stacy: Fuck off. You did NOT win me.
I smiled again. I knew that would get her going.
Scott: Stace?
Stacy: Yeah Scott?
Scott: Don't stop talking to me.
I was lying in a cold, empty bed while she was probably sitting on my couch, just in case I came home. Waiting for me. I was pathetic.
The next ding of my phone brought with it a photo. It showed the red lace bra I'd put on for her just a few hours ago neatly tucked away in my sock drawer. I shook my head and cracked yet another smile.
Stacy: Why is there a picture of me crumpled up in your sock drawer?
I wondered if she had guessed the answer and was just asking to get a rise out of me. If yes, what did she think about me jacking off to thoughts and photos of her?
Scott: Stay the fuck out of my shit.
Scott: Miss you, Stace.
She sent another photo. This time she was sitting on my bed, legs crossed, wearing my favorite tshirt (which just so happened to be hers too) and not much else.
Stacy: Smells like you.
Scott: What did I say about staying out of my shit?
Stacy: Come home and stop me.
Knowing she was indeed waiting for me, I almost did go home. The most primal parts of my mind took control in a way I was unaccustomed to and I could almost feel my dick sinking into her warm, tight, little pussy.
It's not that I don't objectively find women attractive. I just struggle to enjoy fucking them. I'm not the kind of guy who lies awake thinking of getting his dick wet. Obviously, that does not go over well for a 21st century man claiming to be straight. That's why when it comes up, I do my part and get it over with. Pretty sure Jeff fucked up the joys of sex for me. Over the last two days though, all that changed. Thinking of fucking her became my curse. Ever since I kissed her, she had me hard all the fucking time.
But what if I made her feel good beyond her wildest dreams, only to feel nothing at all for her afterwards? What if things ended just like with everyone else?
Snapping me out of my brooding, my phone dinged again. She had sent a video. I pressed play.
"Hi Scottie," she said, shuffling away from the phone to get onto my bed. "Miss you so much. I'll be here when you get home. Bring coffee. And food because we both know I can't cook to save my life. Have a good night," she said, blowing a kiss into the camera as she jumped up and down on my bed.
I must have watched it on a loop for hours in between texting her. Not just because I was thinking with my dick again, trying to figure out how transparent that shirt actually was or because I noticed her cute bikini cut panties with little red hearts on them. It was her voice that reeled me in. It filled the room and lit up my world.
We texted until she finally wore me down and got me to talk about my biggest taboo topic: my father. She knew that he was FBI. I told her that's how I got out, but I knew she could sense there was more going on. I didn't mention my dad often, but when I did it was never in a good way.
As soon as she gave me an opening, I changed the subject. We texted some more until I passed out from sheer exhaustion. As my eyes closed, the last thing I saw was the door I had been watching all night, trying not to fixate on just how hard it was not to go home to her.