Page 17 of American Love Story

I looked up, because this was another new symptom of my Patrice “ailment.” Everything felt monumental, like it needed to be dissected and analyzed and it was fucking exhausting.

“I saw him at Philmans last week and he mentioned he was having trouble with the place he rented, so I let him know I had two units at six eleven Cayuga. He came to see the place with two bedrooms, he liked it, and he’s moving in a couple of days.”

Cindy was shaking her head, a big grin on her face.

I held up my hand, annoyed. “Why does everyone think I’m a manipulative asshole who only does shit to further my getting laid agenda?”

She balked at that. “I never said that.”

“You’re right, you didn’t. I don’t know.” I sagged. “He’s a nice guy and this job is a big deal for him. You should’ve seen his face when he told me he still couldn’t believe that he could afford the rent. Like it was the most amazing thing in the world for him to be able to live in that apartment. He doesn’t want drama, Cindy. He wants to do this job—which he worked his ass off to get—and enjoy this new place, without his landlord trying to get into his bed.”

Cindy was now fully in Mama Bear mode, and I was about to crawl out of my skin.

“Easton. Why do you put yourself down like that? I get that he’s not looking to get involved, but you’re not drama. You’re not some guy. Youarea good man. If he can’t see it, then that’s one thing, but anyone would be lucky to have you.”

“It’s not that simple, Cindy. I get why Patrice wants to keep things friendly, and I have enough going on here. I shouldn’t be getting distracted with a love life that’s going nowhere and focus on my damn job,” I said, feeling guilty that my need to talk about Patrice distracted me from the conversation about the stops. I stood up from my desk and was about to suggest we go out for coffee so I could clear my head a bit when Ron walked into the office looking pissed.

Before he even opened his mouth, my heart sank.

“It happened again. This time it was two kids driving home after a late shift at the French bistro in town.” He shook his head and started tapping something on his phone and then handed it to me to look at. The headline said it all.

Sheriff’s Department’s Racially Biased Traffic Stops:New Ithaca Trend?

“I knew it. I fucking knew this would happen,” I said through gritted teeth. Cindy looked at the phone and sighed.

Ron gave her a hard look and took his phone back. “We need to do something. Day clearly has not dealt with this at all if it happened again in less than two weeks.”

I ran my hands over my head, intensely aware that Cindy had so far not said a word.

“Cin, go to the gym. I’ll deal with this.” My tone was sharp, but I was starting to run out of patience at how nonchalant she was being. Were we supposed to just let this escalate and do nothing?

“Do not do anything impulsive, Easton.”

That one hurt, because even if in my personal life I was a bit reactive, I never ever did anything that could hurt my work. But again, she was the boss, not me. “I will be cautious of how I approach this, but I need to sit down with Day. By this point, I was mostly talking to Ron. “I’m still convinced there is a way to address this without blowing everything up.”

She looked from me to Ron, who looked like he was actively trying not to punch a wall. “Fine. I need to get out of here before I break all the promises I made to Lorraine about taking it easy. Please do not make any statements on behalf of this office until we’ve spoken with Day. Again, these are routine traffic stops.”

Ron scoffed at that, earning an unfriendly look from Cindy. “You’re entitled to your opinion, Ron, but while you are speaking for this office, you will refrain from making statements about the sheriff’s department’s actions.” I squeezed the back of my neck hard, hoping this didn’t turn into a shouting match, but after a moment, Ron nodded.

“Yes ma’am, but it’s not my imagination that this sudden hike in stops of black and brown kids is a very concerning trend.”

Cindy stopped at the door and sighed again. “We agree on that.” She turned to me. “Easton, set up a meeting with Day. We need to at least hear from him about what the fuck he’s planning to do with these little assholes.”

Ron cracked a smile at that, and I waved her off. “I’ll call Day, and this time he’s going to have to talk to me.” With that, Cindy walked out. I turned to look at Ron who had his phone screen practically pressed to his face.

“Oh shit.”

“What?” I asked, as I moved over to see what he was looking at with a weird mix of dread and delight.

“Look at this.”

He handed me his phone. I wasn’t really on social media, so when I saw Patrice’s face in the tiny circle on the leftside of the screen, my heart started pounding. His handle was @AyitienProf and his tweet with a timestamp from ten minutes ago was incendiary.

Fuck.

Young black and brown men continue to be harassed on the roads of this county as they try to work and study.

Those of you who are responsible for putting a stop to this: do your jobs. We’re waiting.