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“Castillo!”
I stop in my tracks at the sound of my name. Turning toward my captain, I follow his direction and move across the room to his office. Captain Newman stands at the door as I enter, then closes it before taking his chair across the desk. A moment of déjà vu hits me. This feeling is not unlike when I was seven and called to the principal’s office to discuss my constant need to turn every stick into a fake gun. I explained then that I was going to be a police officer and an officer should always have a weapon. Somehow I don’t think that answer will work for Captain Newman.
“How are things going?”
Squinting my eyes, I tilt my head slightly. “Fine, sir.”
“Your mother is worried about you, Gage.”
Sighing, I sit back in my seat. “Uncle Cal, she worries about us all. She still worries about Dad, and he retired two years ago.”
Uncle Cal laughs and leans back in his chair, the movement causes a creaking sound that makes me wonder if one more move will have him on the floor. I wish this was the first time I’ve had this conversation with my uncle. Or my father. Even cousins. The downside to being part of a cop family is my mom’s direct line to my boss and dozens of other officers.
“Your mom has seen a lot of loss in her life. Our family doesn’t make it easy on the family members who don’t wear the badge. When we were kids, Nana was worse than your mother, if you can imagine that.”
“I know being related to a cop, regardless of if it’s by blood or not, is difficult. I’ll never forget the sound of my mom crying the night Dad was shot. I was little but it’s something that will stay with me for the rest of my life. That was the night I knew I would be a cop. I would stop bad guys from hurting anyone else. It’s also why I would never bring a woman or child into this life.”
Uncle Cal runs his hand down his face and I see the way this job has affected him. He looks exhausted. Dad always thought he and Cal would retire together. It was something they talked about my entire life. When the time came, Dad moved forward while his best friend stayed behind.
“Sounds like you had an adventurous call this afternoon,” he says with a smirk.
A change in subject I don’t mind. “That’s an understatement. I swear that kid was training for the Olympics. He scaled that fence like he had rockets on his shoes.”
For the next few minutes, we briefly discuss a few of my recent calls and the string of overdoses in the area. Our city isn’t huge, but it’s enough for us to have a pretty intense drug problem.
“Come to dinner Sunday. Aubrey’s coming home this weekend and there will be a full house.”
“Already planning on it.”
Standing, I lift my bag and move toward the door. Before I can turn the handle, Uncle Cal says, “Gage, don’t let this job rule your life. Loosen up. Date. Travel. Do something. Hell kid, ruffle your hair.”
My head drops as his words hit their mark. A hand slaps my shoulder and I turn slightly. “Don’t follow in my footsteps, Gage. Being a cop is a career but not a life.Live.”
“See you on Sunday.”
He steps back, allowing me to leave the office. Our conversation floats in my head as I drive home, the window open enough to let the cool breeze fill the cab of my truck. It isn’t lost on me that my family and the few friends I have look at me with pity in their eyes. Pity for my lack of life. For the conservative way I’ve lived since I was a teenager. They see me as a guy who doesn’t let loose. I’m twenty-five years old and have no personal life to show for it. What I do have are goals.
You don’t make detective by partying with your buddies and taking trips to Vegas. Online college courses and keeping a clear head are what will get me to the next level.
By the time I make it home, my body is begging for bed. Tossing my bag on the floor, I flip the lock on the door and go directly to my room, stripping out of my clothes down to my boxer briefs before slipping between the cool sheets. I have a rare weekend off and I’m going to take advantage of every minute.
• • •
Sitting in the cell phone lot, I play a dumb game on my phone while I wait for my sister’s text. I’m still amazed that my baby sister is in college. Aubrey and I are seven years apart in age and, although we have lived such completely different lives with that large age gap, you’d never know it by how close we are. Thankfully, my sister has given my mother the greatest gift. She has no interest in criminal justice or any job in law enforcement.
My cell vibrates with a message and I smile.
Brat: The prodigal daughter has landed.
Me: You must have the wrong number. I know of no prodigal daughter.
Brat:
The grin on my face remains in place as I pull out of the parking lot and head in the direction of baggage claim. I bark out a laugh when I see Aubrey at the curb. She’s holding a sign that says, “My brother is here for our parents’ favorite child.” This is why she is in my phone as “Brat.”
Since it is my brotherly duty to mess with her, I slow the truck and lower the window. Aubrey greets me with huge smile and a slight hop. Then I watch as that smile falls when I roll past her. I glance to the rearview mirror and see her standing just off the curb with her hands on her hips and the sign flopping at her side.
I pull the truck over to the curb, just about three car lengths from Aubrey and wait for her to drag her bag my direction. When she’s close, I hop from the cab and grab the handle of her suitcase.
