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Post by qb on Sept 10, 2005 13:55:57 GMT -5
ENTRY ONE:
Case # 1: JJ McCool Gets Iced
Scene of the Crime: JJ’s place, a ground floor apartment in a bad neighborhood. First officers on scene: Danny Sofer and Julien Lowe.
Julian: The victim is one JJ McCool, 21 year old white male, killed in his living room. Multiple stab wounds to face and torso. Liza Jones, His girlfriend made the call at 11:30 p.m. Said she found him covered up with a blanket. She pulled the blanket away to see if he was dead, but didn’t touch anything else. She says she has no idea why anyone would want to kill him.
Danny: A neighbor saw Ms. Jones arrive just before she made the 911 call. But the neighbor also says these two fight a lot, and Ms. Jones has a split lip. She doesn’t have enough blood on her to account for these stab wounds, but the body’s cold enough she might have done it, gone somewhere to clean up, and come back.
Julien: Or it could be a robbery. His wallet’s empty. There’s drug paraphernalia, but no stash. It looks like the struggle was limited to the living room, but the rest of the place has been tossed. There’s a bloody ice pick on the floor, but the handle has been wiped. There’s also a Dodger’s baseball cap under the victim’s left hand, and there’s blood on it.
The girlfriend identifies this photo as showing JJ (on the left, beardless w/ black hat) and his best friend Rocky.
The answering machine has a message from a voice Liza identifies as JJ’s father. “Hi, son…you must already be asleep. Call me tomorrow.
JJ McCool Gets Iced – Chapter 2, the Neighbor.
You are the viewpoint character for this scene, a new investigator I’ll call Detective Smith. “My” character is Ms. Oake, the witness Detective Smith will interview.
((Scene: The Barn, one day after the murder of JJ McCool. Vic Mackey approaches Detective Smith. Vic has that look that says casual on the outside and calculating on the inside.))
Vic: Hey, Smith. I hear you sent a unit to bring Rocky for a lineup. I thought he was cleared.
Smith: You said he was cleared. I’m still investigating.
Vic: Investigate away, but I’m telling ya Rocky ain’t your guy. He’s a weasel and a stoner, but he’s not violent. He’s also not smart. If he’d taken your guy’s cash and stash, he’d be in bed with a hooker and a pipe right now.”
Smith: I hear this stoner weasel is one of your C.I.’s. You covering for him?
Vic: Nah, I just don’t want you wasting your time. You know what a crapshoot it is trying to get a solid story from a witness. If you want a really righteous bust, try Candyman. I know his prints aren’t at the scene, but he’s got enough brains to wear gloves or have someone else do it. He’s sure as shit smarter than Rocky, and a lot more dangerous. Candyman doesn’t understand the concept of free-market economy. If someone’s selling on his turf, he’ll arrange a drive-by shooting. Sometimes innocent citizens get hurt. You take Candyman off the street and you’ll be doing us all a favor.”
Smith: I’ll put that on my to-do list. First I plan to interview this witness.
(Smith sits at his/her desk. Vic pulls up an extra chair and sits down on the other side of the chair the witness is likely to sit in. Smith lifts an eyebrow and looks at Vic.)
Vic (folds hands, puts on a look of fake innocence): What? I thought I’d sit in on the interview. Maybe pick up a few pointers. You don’t mind, do you?
Smith (sarcastically): No problem. Here’s a pad so you can take notes on my techniques.
A stout, forty-something woman approaches the desk. She has waist length brown hair lightly streaked with gray, wire rim glasses, and a rainbow tie-dye dress. She looks at the name plate on the desk and then from Smith to Vic.
The witness introduces herself as Ms. Oake. Vic and Smith subtly wrestle for control of the interview while dealing with the preliminary questions.
Vic: So, Ms. Oake, how well did you know JJ?
Ms. Oake: Just to say hi. About all I know is what came out his windows and into mine – those houses are pretty close together. He liked blues and grunge rock, he smoked a lot of grass and a little crack, and once or twice a month he’d have a shouting match with either his father or his girlfriend.
Smith: Did he argue with anyone else that you know of?
Ms. Oake (after a pause): No. In a few arguments I heard them yelling the words dad and son, but I never met his father. His girlfriend was there a lot and I knew her voice, had talked with her once or twice. I called the police when it sounded like JJ hit her, but she always told the officers everything was fine.
Vic: What about gang bangers? Rival drug dealers, that kinda thing?
Ms. Oake: I don’t think so. JJ had a lot of people going in and out at odd hours. I figured he was dealing, but all I smelled was pot most nights. Aside from a few arguments, JJ and his visitors seemed quiet and peaceable and kept a low profile. Compared to meth labs and gunshots and fistfights in the street…. (shrugs shoulders) In this neighborhood that’s about the best you can hope for. But obviously someone he knew wasn’t so peaceable.
Smith: So you heard an argument the night of the murder…?
Ms. Oake: About 8:30 or 9 p.m. The music was loud enough I couldn’t say who it was or what they said. Things were quiet by 9:30. I was out front trying to get one of my cats off the porch roof. A man left JJ’s. He seemed familiar, but I really wasn’t looking at him. And it was very dark. That street light has been out for months. White guy, medium build, dark hair and a beard, wearing a dark shirt.
((Scene change: In the break room, Vic approaches Ronnie Gardocki.))
Vic: Un-comb your hair, you’re joining the line-up. Try to look homicidal so this woman doesn’t pick Rocky. Not that I think she’s observant enough to be much of a witness.
Ronnie: Ah, she’s observant. When you walked away from Smith’s desk she was checking out your ass.”
Vic (eye roll): Ri-ight. Maybe when we do the line-up we should have all the guys face the wall.
((Scene change: the line-up. Ms. Oake peers through the two-way mirror at the line-up, tipping her head at different angles.))
Ms. Oake: Damned bifocals. It’s so bright, and the guy I saw was in shadows. Too bad we can’t recreate the lighting conditions. Tell the city that if the street light in front of my house worked I could probably make a positive ID.
Vic: yeah, no sweat. I’ll send a memo out to maintenance right away. Do you see the guy or not?
Ms. Oake: Number three looks like someone I’ve seen in the neighborhood (pointing at Rocky), but not the one I saw the night of the murder. Five is the closest, but I thought the guy I saw was a little heavier. I guess I’ll go with Five. (She points at Ronnie Gardocki.) Does that help?
Vic (smirking): Yes, ma’am, you’ve been very helpful. Detective Smith will show you out to your car.
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ENTRY TWO:
Rick's car crunched the gravel beneath its tires as he warily pulled toward the meeting place. They agreed to meet under a freeway overpass near Elysian Park. There was no traffic on the Stadium Way exit heading toward Dodger Stadium on this evening--the Dodgers were on a road trip. Plus, they suck this year, Rick was thinking to himself. He finally saw her, pacing and glancing around nervously at her surroundings.
Rick got out of his car and walked toward Tigre. She still had thick, dark hair and had grown it longer than in the picture Lem had shown him. It looked nice, thought Rick. She was still slim and very attractive. What made her stand out were her deep blue eyes--a surprising contrast to her olive, Latino complexion. Dark red lipstick on nicely-shaped, full lips and thick, black eyebrows gave her a beautiful, gypsy-like appearance. She wore jeans that hung down to the legal limit, exposing her hip bones and bedsheet-flat belly; and accentuating her chandelier-style navel jewelry.
Rick clenched his jaw as he realized what every man who sees Tigre realized--she is a looker of major proportions. He tried to not make it to obvious that he was sizing her up, especially her belly and jewelry. It didn't work. "Like what you see, copper man?" she smirked with an arrogant smile.
Rick ignored her and abruptly said "You are alone, right? And how did you know it was me?"
"Oh, so you're not the Fuller Brush man?" Tigre cackled as she threw her head back, revealing two huge silver hoop earrings."Yeah, hello to you, too, Mr. Private Dick" added Tigre. "I don't have time for bullshit. And if this is gonna work, no one can know." " I know that -- you think I'm stooo-pid?" she laughed mockingly.
"I heard you are someone who likes gettin' banged on a breakfast table, so who knows what else you are."
"You're just jealous, a**hole."
"Well, if I am I'd never let you know it. Now let's get down to business. You said you wanna be my snitch, is that right?" asked Rick, sneering at her.
"Awww, that's right, honey", replied Tigre, "I wanna be your first ... first snitch since they let your sorry ass be on the Strike Team," she said teasing Rick and not giving an inch.
"What's wrong, gettin' tired of just bein someone's free bitch on a Harley?"
"Uh huh, big man ... and this shit costs money," she said as she flicked at her navel jewelry with her index finger. Then she brought her index finger back and left her middle finger extended so Rick could see it. "And so does this" she said as she tugged downward at her jeans to reveal a new tattoo, along with a trace of the top of her pubic hair.
"You little ho, I don't bang my subordinates--sorry to disappoint you" Rick snorted.
Tigre had heard rumors that Rick and Danny got real friendly once and she started to sing the first few lines of "Danny Boy", substituting "girl" for "boy", then slapped her knee with glee. This made Rick actually turn red and he knew he had to have a quick comeback.
"Look, bitch, maybe if the department is low on cash, I'll give you an "in-kind" payment."
"That ain't gonna buy me bread, gringo, but maybe once in a while, huh?"
Rick couldn't help but grin and he knew Tigre had gotten the best of him. He looked forward to her really getting the best of him.
Tigre just smiled coyly and handed him a card. It was one of one Rick's own brand new business cards ... her phone no. was written on the back and next to it was a smiley face with it's tongue out. She is good, thought Rick as he wondered how she got it.
"Gimme a call when you need me, big boy." Tigre said as she turned around and strutted off, making sure her hips swayed in a way that would rivet Rick's eyes.
Rick just savored the show and already started contemplating when he would play his next card, which just happened to be his own card.
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Post by qb on Sept 10, 2005 14:03:08 GMT -5
ENTRY THREE
"I can do this without you if I have to, so don't feel obligated to be involved." She looked into his eyes and then away, tears welling. "I want this baby."
Vic felt himself breathing in small bursts, his face hot with panic. Wasn't this just a bad dream? His knees actually felt weak and his chest was tight. "Christ," he sighed as he sat on her couch and rubbed his face with both hands.
"Vic, I'm only telling you because you have a right to know. I'm not looking for a husband or child support. Maybe a little emotional support, if you can come up with that much. It will be your child, after all." She sat next to him but kept her own hands in her lap. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen, but it did."
Vic wondered why in the hell he had never thought this could happen. He took it for granted that an independent single woman would be using birth control; that she would want this no more than he did. He hadn't had a pregnancy scare since high school in Boston. He and his girlfriend had worked out a secret plan for an abortion. A few days before his older cousin would drive them to a clinic, the girl got her period. He felt like he'd escaped the hangman's noose. The dread at this moment felt morbidly familiar.
"Ah, yeah, sure. I, ah, I need some time to get used to the idea. Are you sure?"
"Sure about what, Vic? That I am pregnant, that I want this child...or that it's yours?" Her voice was slightly defensive as she stood and crossed her arms, "I am very sure. Stop questioning me, ok?"
He could hear the emotion in her voice, a mix of frustration and disappointment. She could hardly expect him to thrilled about the news. He had three kids and an ex-wife to support, and two of the kids were costing him a fortune in special ed. Cassidy wasn't handling the divorce well and Corrine wanted to get her into counseling. More money. If the Money Train heist had worked out the way it should have, he wouldn't feel the financial pressure. As it was, he felt that pressure more than ever.
Vic stood next to her, put his arms around her, and responded, "I'm sorry. It's... it's just unexpected. Look, we'll handle it. You can count on me."
She broke into tears and buried her face in his neck, hugging him back. "Oh, God, Vic. Thank you. I was so afraid you'd be mad at me."
She pulled back and kissed him. He reached up and held her face in both hands. The kiss lingered a few seconds. It was clear that she wanted more, but Vic had business to conduct so he stepped back and touched her shoulder. "I've got to take care of something. I'll be in touch, ok?"
She wiped the tears away from each eye and sniffed, "Ok. Maybe you can call me later?"
"Sure, if I can. Try to get some rest, ok?" She nodded and managed a smile. Vic walked toward the front door and smiled back at her with a little wave and let himself out. As he pulled the door shut behind him, his face hardened with anger and determination. He pulled out his cell phone and speed dialed.
"Shane. Meet me at the Market Street underpass, now..... I'll tell you when we get there. Make it ten! We've got to take care of something right away."
-----
Who is "she"? Danny? Lauren? Emma? Or...?
What do you think Vic is going to do?
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ENTRY FOUR
He hadn't done a lot of role playing but, overall, he enjoyed undercover work. Even though some of his patrol buddies whispered under their breath about racial quotas and the under-earned fast track to junior detective, Julian felt strongly he had paid the price for this opportunity and had no need to apologize for it. And if being a black man had anything to do with his selection for the "John Squad", well, that was ok, too. Skin color had been a disadvantage for most of his life; now it could play in his favor.
A loud rap on the passenger side window startled him from these thoughts. Julian had stopped for the light and didn't see the slender young man approaching the car. He hit the button that would lower the window. A dark-haired, light-skinned young man in his mid-twenties smiled brightly as the window allowed them to see each other face to face.
"Hey, baby! You seemed to be in some pretty deep thought there."
Julian smiled nervously and replied, "Yeah, just thinking. What's up?" He wasn't entirely in character at the moment since he had been caught off guard. He blinked hard and tried to remember his John name and story.
"Hmmm, hanging out. Looking for love and all of that." The young man smiled again, dimples flashing. "How about you?"
"I wouldn't mind some company. Are you, you know, available?"
"Are you a cop, baby? I'm in no mood to deal with jail tonight, ok?" The younger man's face grew serious as he held onto the door and squatted next to the car door. "Do me a favor now and tell me and I will just move along."
Julian laughed and looked out at the street in front of him, alive with activity, including similar transactions. "I'm no cop. I'm a high school assistant coach and there's no way I want to get arrested either. I want to know if I can trust you, man." They each eyed the other, waiting to see what the other would say. The moments of silence were awkward.
Julian broke first, being new and nervous yet at this work. He laughed, "Ok ok. Get in."
"All right!" The younger man pulled open the door and hopped in. "I'm Derek. What's your name?" He brushed the front of shirt and tugged at his cut offs.
"Rex." Julian resisted the urge to say more about his character, the elaborate storyline he had been writing in his head in case one of the prostitutes asked him more. Det Strauth had warned him not to do this, but he felt more confident with a more developed role.
"So what's your game, Rex? Should we get a bite to eat or just take a ride?" Derek reached over and caressed Julian's thigh, which tightened involuntarily, then moved toward Julian's crotch.
Julian knew this wouldn't be enough for a charge and conviction, and he had no choice but to let the prostitute fondle him. It was legal, though many of the whores and hustler still thought it was a sure fire way to weed the real Johns from the undercovers. Only problem: it made it nearly impossible for Julian to concentrate on the plan. He hadn't been with a man in two years, since he'd been married, and he had finally begun to feel cured of his desire to be with men.
The honk of a horn behind them startled both and Julian crossed the intersection quickly. Unfortunately, this left the van of backups four cars behind him and stuck at the red light. Julian didn't notice.
"What do you mean?" Julian fumbled, "I...I am new to this. Please don't laugh."
Derek giggled then looked at him thoughtfully. "You're serious? Probably a married guys with a couple of kids, huh. Just now acting on those nasty attractions you've repressed all of your life?" Julian nodded but didn't reply or take his eyes off of the road. "It's ok baby. Derek will make sure you have a good time, whatever you want to do. Rough, easy, top or bottom. You decide."
Julian knew a few more words about a price for the sexual activity and he had him. "I haven't been on dates very often. What do you charge?"
Derek looked out at the street ahead of them and paused thoughtfully, "Well, I like a good-looking black man and a novice. How about $200?"
"Ok. I think I have that much with me." Julian glanced up in his rear view mirror for the dark green van monitoring their conversation. He didn't see it in the collage of headlights behind him.
"Turn here!" Derek pointed so suddenly that Julian turned without thinking. He found himself going down a dark, trash-strewn alley between buildings and wondering if the surveillance team could pick up the wire from this spot. "Stop the car."
Julian glanced up in the rear view mirror again, fully expecting the headlights of the backup van to come barreling in behind them. All he could see were the cars on the drag passing by the alley entrance. He was annoyed that they weren't close behind him. Not that it would a problem arresting the hustler by himself, it was the idea that they weren't paying attention and it was only his second week on the John Squad.
Julian heard himself gasp a few seconds before the sharp sting and then explosion of pressure in his ribcage. He coughed, as if choking from a mis-swallowed gulp of water, and felt the warm heavy metal taste backing up in his throat. At the same time, the searing pain under his left arm caused him to look down. Protruding from his tank top was the handle of an ice pick, or at least he assumed that's what it was, and he wondered how in the hell it got there. He touched the handle but the pain from doing so shot through his entire body and he cried out.
He looked over at Derek, his brain only beginning to comprehend what happened. Derek got out of the car, slammed the door shut, and leaned into the window, "The righteous have been commanded to slay the defilers of the Scripture, to slaughter the godless heathens! God is not mocked! You are going to burn the fires of hell, pervert. Have fun."
Julian's vision was blurred and whirling, as if he had been drugged, and when he tried to order the perp to freeze--attempting to reach the gun in the small of his back--nothing came out but a frothy gurgle and a trickle of blood down his chin. He was too weak to reach his gun and felt himself sinking as if into a deep sleep. As he slumped over and into the passenger seat, all he could think of is his wife and stepson. How would they be told that he was dead? How would his wife raise their unborn child by herself? Julian groaned in protest, a last effort to fight, but then the pain was gone and the fear was gone. The lights of the dashboard glowed and with his final breaths, Julian saw them as neon angels coming to take him home. To that place his mother had taught him about as a little boy. To that place where she would be.
He did not hear the siren behind him, or see the lights as the dark green van screeched to hault behind the car. He did not hear the lead detective on the John Squad rush up to the car and cry out that an officer was down, to get an ambulance. Julian was no longer there, in the puddle of his own blood, in a dark and littered alley.
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Post by qb on Sept 10, 2005 14:08:03 GMT -5
ENTRY FIVE
Two Federal Agents are in the barn, They were sent to interview workers from the barn, Federal Agents Yar and Tina,
This is the beginning of Season four before Monica Rawlings is the captain.. They approach Rawlings office..
Yar: Captain, I am Federal Agent Yar and this is Federal Agent Tina, we were sent here to talk to a few of your employees, just a questions,
Rawlings, Why? Anything you need to say, you can ask me,,,,
Yar, we prefer to speak with Wagonbach and Wyms we were sent to meet with Claudette Wyms, and Dutch Wagnobach,,
Yar, I will speak with you and Claudette Tina speaks to Dutch…
Rawlings, this is highly irregular, if you have any questions simply ask me,,,
Yar, yes, we may, but we may also wish to ask Vic Mackey as well.
Rawlings, Mackey and I are busy, you better just ask Dutch and Claudette
Yar and Tina, Fine,,,
Yar, I’ll take Claudette, you take Dutch
Yar approaches Claudettes desk. Hi detective Wyms, Wyms, I am busy Yar, I need to ask you a few questions, about what has happened here? Wyms, I am hungry and don’t have time, Yar, fine lets do lunch, and find the time, or I’ll report you to the captain Wyms, fine,,,,
At a local bar, , Yar, Claudette, you look pissed,,, something u wanna share? Claudette, what, that the barn stinks, that my promotion and ideas were stolen by that snake…. Yar, did you know, several convictions have been overturned and several felons walked, due to you busting that attorney,,, where does the ends justify the means?
Claudette, don’t preach to me about that, I did the right thing,,,,
Yar, did the right thing, your daughter was attacked by a rapist an hour ago, and the rapist was released, due to you pursuing that attorney.. His case was overturned
Claudette, gives Yar a mean look., and totally speechless Yar, I was told to inform you of this….. Hopefully when we re-arrest and convict him, you won't be in such a hurry to do the right thing..
++++++++++++ Tina and Dutch,
Dutch sees Tina walking out of the ladies room, He has a gleam in his eye, and pursues her. Tina walks outside into the parking lot..
Dutch, why are you here? Something I can help you with?
Tina, yes, tell me about this place? How are things
Dutch,nice place, but lets do lunch They goto a restaurant in a hotel…
dutch, my partner and I have some friction tho..
Tina, smiling,, oh why a cute guy like you? Why ??
Dutch, my partner is too self righteous and has got her and me in a shit list.
Tina, ,, tell me dutch,, you seem very very smart, why don’t you do something about it? Protect her from herself.
Dutch, I wud, but I won’t go behind my partners back,
Tina even to salvage her and your careers,,
Dutch, I don’t know if I can, the DA probably won’t talk to us,
Tina, try, I may know someone,, but why such a frown?
Dutch, my wife left me a while back with her AA counselor, they are on their second kid.
Tina, and you feel sad?
Dutch, yeah,, very very lonely.. and you are so beautiful… Dutch starts rubbing tina’s leg with his shoe…
You know,, you are very sexy, tell me, why are you at the barn, Dutch grabs tina’s leg…
Tina, I am here on allogations of sexual harassment,
A young girl whom you were interviewing said you grabbed her and said you were very sexually aggressive, a smooth talker, but not too bright, when it comes to women.
Now I got my answer…
Dutch’s face turns white…..
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ENTRY SIX
SETTING: The scene after the final scene in Season 03. Vic has argued with and broken his ties with the other Strike Team members. He drives off in anger after Lem, Ronnie and Shane leave him on a darkened hillside overlooking the city. ---------------------------------------------
“What in the hell is the matter with you?” Vic stormed up to a white Toyota Camry, which he crashed into with his dark blue SUV. The rear end of the Celica is visibly dented and the vehicle sits slightly askew.
“What are you talking about? You smashed into me!” the attractive 35 yr old business woman with bobbed hair and pearls is incredulous.
“Look, lady, if you weren’t sitting on the on ramp, I wouldn’t have hit you!” Vic snarls, barely able to keep from screaming at the woman.
The woman gets out of her vehicle and stands up to Vic, about 2 inches taller, slender, in a short skirt. “I don’t know what’s up with you, but I was checking some directions for a party. You were in some dumb ass hurry and plowed right into me!” The woman stood about 4 inches from Vic, somehow sensing he would not hurt her. He seemed upset and flustered and she did not feel completely justified in her accusation.
“Jesus Christ, like I need this tonight!” Vic looked at the pavement and shook his head in disgust and resignation. He walked back to his SUV and in total frustration, slammed his fist on the hood.
The woman realized there was a lot under the bald guy’s surface. She couldn’t help but notice the tense muscles bulging under his shirt and she appreciated the power of a strong man feeling very much out of control. Some of her high broker real estate clients had similar traits on a much smaller, more domestic scale. This man was gritty and street real, something different. Gwen was on fire!
Gwen walked back to the man’s SUV, where he stood stiff with anger. “Look, let’s just exchange insurance information and let the companies handle it? We don’t need to resolve everything tonight.” She touched his shoulder and leaned down to look into his face, “Ok?”
“Yeah, ok. Sorry.” Vic turned and managed a pained smile. “I’ve got a lot going on.”
“Cop, huh? Gwen kept her hand on the tense, hard shoulder.
“Yeah, how did you know?” Vic managed to smile in a softer, curious way.
“My father was a cop and I saw the same intense look on his face fairly often. I know what cops go through. And I can see your badge.”
Vic looked down at his waist, where his gold detective’s badge glimmered in the lights from passing traffic on the nearby highway. “Ahhh, of course.” Vic turned toward the woman, visibly more relaxed, and managed to laugh just a little. “I’m Vic Mackey. Good at cop work, not as good at driving when I’m pissed.”
Gwen laughed and reached her hand out, “I’m Gwen Calistro. Real estate agent. Good at real estate brokering, not as good at reading directions to parties.” Vic took her hand and they both chuckled. For the first time, Gwen could see his eyes and knew he could see hers.
“Look, I know a great Irish pub not far from here. Good food, better drinks. Want to follow me over and we can exchange insurance information?” Gwen could swear she saw his pupils dilate, even in the dubious lighting.
“Well… it’s been a long day. I wanted to visit my kids yet…”
“It’ll take an hour at most. Come on. You look like you could use a quality Irish brew.” Gwen reached up and touched Vic’s arm, tilting her head slightly, and smiling. “Come on, Vic.”
Vic smiled in that shy way of his and sighed, “Ok. You talked me into it. One beer and I have to go.”
“Great! Let’s go.” Gwen gave Vic’s arm a squeeze and turned toward her car. “Don’t follow too closely, Detective. One fender bender is enough for tonight!” she laughed.
Vic gritted his teeth and a ripple passed along his jaw. He had not forgotten what had happened with Lem, Ronnie and Shane. It would take more than one brew to put that out of his mind, even for an hour with a pretty woman.
NEXT SETTING: The Leprechaun’s Teet Irish Pub. Vic and Gwen have found a table and are enjoying the first sips of a frothy Irish brew. --------------------------------------------
“I am sure the companies will work it out. Once they establish it was your fault for stopping on the ramp.” Vic flashed Gwen his boyish grin.
Gwen sighed and was charmed. “Vic, I like you. You’re the kind of man who pisses a woman off one minute, then seduces her the next, while she’s still mad at you. It creates some interesting energy.”
Vic finished a deep swig of his beer and smiled back. “Some women like that about me and some don’t. I’m all for the ones who do.”
Gwen slid her hand across the table and lightly scratched the top of Vic’s fingers with her nails. “Detective Mackey, we’ve both had a troublesome day. Would you like to expend some of that energy with me? Escape our problems for a couple of hours?” Gwen had never been a wallflower but she could hardly believe how brazen she was being with this oddly sexy man she’d met only 45 minutes ago. But when you feel that kind of animal attraction, she assured herself, you don’t just walk away. Not from a man like Vic Mackey!
Vic felt his face heat up and the twitch in his pants was undeniable. “Anything to convince you not to submit that insurance claim.” They both laughed at the remark. Gwen took Vic’s hand in her own.
“Give me a satisfactory settlement and there won’t be one page of paperwork to fill out.” She squeezed Vic's hand.
They smiled at each other as Vic signaled for the tab and Gwen checked in her purse for a tip. Neither one of them noticed the sly glances their way by a man at the bar, who happened to be very eager to pay his tab as well…
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Post by qb on Sept 29, 2005 20:57:56 GMT -5
VOTING CLOSES FRIDAY SEPT 30th!!!We have a front-runner but not a lot of votes. Be sure to read the fun Shield fiction and help determine our winner of THE SHIELD SOUNDTRACKI will congratulate the winner on Saturday morning and have Amazon.com send out the prize. Our next contest is under development. It'll run through October. When I post it, I will post the prize as well. Stay tuned!! ;D
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