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“And you’re already up to 1953? Didn’t they start in the thirties or something?” I ask, impressed. “How long have you been doing this?”
“Well, we only started at 1944,” Candy explains.
“Yeah, because the categories were different before that, it wasn’t calledbestpicture. So, we’ve done ten movies in about three months,” Den continues for her. “We try to watch one movie every week but sometimes it’s hard with our shifts not lining up. It’s a bloody miracle we both have a Friday night off.” He chuckles.
The conversation I overheard this afternoon about Candy swapping shifts comes to mind and I spare a glance at her. She’s biting on her lower lip and staring at the still blank screen.These kids, honestly.
Candy snorts so loudly that she makes herself laugh harder and flings her head back so she’s almost hanging off the armrest. Den and I are laughing too. I’ve slouched low on the comfortable armchair, manspreading to the max and Den is a lot more relaxed than when he first sat down unnaturally straight. Candy’s legs are now stretched the length of the sofa, her feet resting on his thighs. The film finished about an hour ago; it was okay. Nowhere near enough blood and gore for my liking but I like their plan of going through the best pictures, so I enjoyed it for the experience.
“Oh God, stop,” Candy gasps through her laughter. “My stomach aches.” She rests her arms over her middle and tries to catch her breath.
To be honest, I can’t even remember why we are laughing. We’ve been chatting since the credits started rolling and I don’t think I’ve ever had so much fun with my clothes on. Den’s sense of humour is dry and he’s quick to laugh. He’s been bartending for three years and is hoping to go for a manager’s position when one is available. Candy is one of the most surprising people I’ve ever met. She has a master’s degree in social economics, I’m not even entirely sure what social economics is. She started dancing when she first went to university to help pay her way through as her parents didn’t have much, but she enjoyed it so much she continued once she finished school. “I figured there’s a limited time for me to keep doing it, so might as well enjoy myself now and figure out the rest later,” she’d told me with a shrug.
I’ve never really spent time with a woman after hooking up. Boundaries are important as I’m never looking for anything more than a one-time thing and I would hate to inadvertently give a woman a false impression. But I’m very comfortable in Candy’s presence. She isn’t awkward or ashamed of letting me fuck her in a club bathroom, and I have no worries about her becoming attached as it’s clear I’m not the one she wants. It’s been almost comical watching these two just miss catching each other looking all night. Every time Den stares at her admittedly gorgeous profile, he snaps his eyes away just before she sneaks a peek at him through thick lashes. We’ve already established I don’t really have a single type but if I did, Candy wouldn’t be it. She’s beautiful, sure, but she has fake tits, fake lashes, enhanced lips and overly long fake nails. I don’t judge and I certainly wasn’t complaining when I was inside her, but it wouldn’t be my first choice. Apparently, it very much is Den’s.
“So, Javier,” Candy purrs playfully and I wince. I like being called my full name during naked playtime, which I’m sure Freud would have some insightful comments about, but to everyone else, I have always been Harvey.
“Please, call me Harvey.”
She smiles and nods, like she knows the deeper meaning of what I’m saying. “Harvey,” she amends. “What’s your story?”
I swirl the dregs of my fifth beer in the bottle, swinging it between my thumb and forefinger as I think on how to answer that question. Best to keep to the same thing I told Annika, especially as ninety-nine percent of it is true.
“I was a cop for the last twenty years, made it as far as detective, got fired, and needed a job.”
They stare at me open mouthed.
“You’re a cop?” Den asks, disbelieving.
“Was,” I clarify.
“Miss Wolfe hired a cop?” Candy gasps.
I nod.
“She hates cops.”
I nod.
“Shereallyhates them.”
“She really hates me,” I sigh, remembering the way she looked at me when I walked into her office. Disgust and disapproval written all over her face but still halting me in my tracks with how unbelievably beautiful she was.Well, that thought train needs shutting down immediately.
“So, you’ve switched sides?” Den asks with a dark brow raised sceptically.
I narrow my eyes on him. “You know she’s a criminal?”
Candy laughs in response. “Honey, everyone knows who Annika Wolfe is.”
“And you guys are okay working for someone like that?”
They both shrug. “I don’t really know anything about what goes on outside of the club,” Den muses. “But she’s a good employer, pays well, decent benefits, and she looks after her people. That’s more than can be said for the so called ‘good guys’ sometimes.”
Candy nods in agreement. “You work for her too now, you obviously know about it. Probably more than we do if you were a cop. So, answer the question. Have you switched sides?”
No. “I don’t know about ‘switching sides,’” I say carefully. “Maybe I’m just starting to understand that not everything is as black and white as I once thought.”
“Finally seeing the world in glorious shades of morally grey?” Candy smirks behind her beer bottle.
