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Great.
Lance
What do you have on Acerbi?
Me
It’s only been a little over a week. I’ve had other cases to wrap up. I’ll let you know when I get something substantial.
Lance
Fuck that! Get on it. Have Connie finish whatever it is you’re slacking on. Acerbi is priority 1, 2, and 3.
Me
Piss off.
Tell me to fucking get on it. I haven’t seen him do shit, and we’re supposed to be working the case together.
Honestly, though, I shouldn’t complain. After all, he’s the last person I wanted to partner up with. I’m happy to get all the intel myself and write up the report to the chief.
My eyes land back on Acerbi.
You like it like that.His voice punches hard into my ear, hot and like he’s trying too hard to sound mean.You like me dirtying you up.
A flash freezes me, making my eyes lose focus on the screen in front of me.
There’s water, a shower, and the unmistakable feeling of being connected to someone else.
Jesus. Heat creeps up my neck while a tickle inside my ear makes me shiver from head to toe. And just like that, it’s gone. Lost, making me question if it was even real.
When I woke up four days ago in his bed, my hair was damp so...
Another text message comes in, and I blow out my frustration.
I look down as my phone sounds off again.
Dad
The Champagne Ball is tomorrow night. Go with me.
Please, Brianna.
I stare at his request, unsure if I should reply.
The Champagne Ball is an annual fundraiser the mayor puts on to raise money to fund his efforts to get drugs off the streets of Los Angeles. The rich come out, bid on outrageously priced junk, and well, the streets are still as drug-ridden as they were the night before. So, I’m not sure what good any of it really does.
Why my father is asking me to go with him is a better question.
It’s not as though I hate the man. I don’t. There will always be something inside of me that loves him because he is my father. He may be a shitty person and an even shittier dad, but that’s just it, he’s still and will always be my dad; the only one I have. Doesn’t mean I have to like him. Doesn’t mean I have to hang out with him.
So why does he want me to accompany him? Who the hell knows? And I won’t know unless I go.
I could wonder about this all day, and I’d still come up with the same answer each time. I’m too curious. Deep down, I know I’ll regret doing it, and even knowing that is likely, I still concede and text him back.
Me
Sure.
