No Such Thing as a Lost Cause Read Free

called him back.
    “I arranged that ride-along you wanted,” he began, forgoing the usual amenities. “So,
     let me guess. You’re reconsidering joining the force.”
    When I was a kid, I’d briefly entertained the idea of becoming a cop. I like to call
     it my “Charlie’s Angels’” phase. I even went so far as to fill out an application
     for the academy, but that was before I realized you were actually expected to follow
     the rules you were hired to enforce. Rule following is not my strong suit.
    “I’m working on an idea for a feature story on cops,” I told him.
And it will be great and everyone will love me and then the station will be sorry
     they ever thought about letting me go and I’ll be asked to run the entire news network
     and pigs will fly and everything!
    “Just make us look good,” he said, and hung up.
    Nick called while I was watching an old episode of
The Nanny
. It was the one where Mr. Sheffield told Fran he loved her and then he took it back.
    “Hello, Angel.”
    “Hey,” I murmured, suddenly shy. “What’s up?”
    “I was hoping you’d tell me.”
    “About what?” I asked, although I had a pretty good idea.
    “About Fran’s pregnancy test. So—is she?” he asked, lightly. I’ve learned not to let
     that fool me. Santiago’s training in the martial arts has enabled him to appear calm,
     even in the deadliest of circumstances, whereas I couldn’t keep my feelings a secret
     if my life depended on it, a theory that has been tested and proven on a daily basis.
    I felt the blood rise to my cheeks. “No,” I whispered, leaning back against the couch
     cushions. “She’s not.”
    I waited a beat, and when he didn’t say anything I added, “Nobody is.”
    And then I burst into tears.
    Once the water works started I couldn’t stop. “Eric’s making me play Godfrey the Traffic
     Dog,” I snuffled. “I’m very upset about it!”
    “Apparently,” Nick said, softly. “Brandy, I may be going out on a limb here, but I
     think something else might be bothering you.”
    “Nope. That’s it. Um, listen, Nick, I’ve gotta go. I’m running late for my—uh—Intuitive
     Eating class.”
Why did I say that? He knows I’m not a joiner.
    “See, I’m respecting my body. It’s a temple, and, um, all that crap. Anyway, I’m supposed
     to bring dessert, and you caught me just going into the bakery. I’ll take a dozen
     cannolis,” I yelled across the room to my cat, Rocky. She was busy licking her girl
     parts and didn’t bother to look up.
    “I really have to go.” I clicked off with Nick, and then I sat back and watched the
     rest of
The Nanny
, and cried some more.
    *****
    Officer Dave Wolinski is a twenty-five year old rookie cop with a passion for video
     games and nine-ball. He grew up at “F” & the Boulevard, attended Father Judge and
     married right out of high school. His ex-wife “is a bitch—no offense” and the new
     love of his life is an adorable, seven-month old Lab mix puppy.
    I’d learned all this in the first ten minutes of my ride along. I also learned that
     working the beat is a lot like war—mostly boring, punctuated with sudden moments of
     sheer terror.
    We’d been cruising around West Philly for a couple of hours, stopping briefly to grab
     some coffee and yell at an old guy who’d peed in the doorway of a laundromat. For
     some reason I’d been feeling kind of down, so it was nice to have something else to
     focus on.
    As we climbed back into the patrol car, a late model, silver, m300 Chrysler barreled
     through the red light, going fifty miles an hour. The windows were rolled down and
     music blared from the radio. It was chock full of bass and expletives and seemed a
     tad on the hostile side, but maybe that’s just me.
    “Hey. Did you see that? The jerk almost ran over that woman in the crosswalk.”
    “It’s show time,” Dave announced. He pressed a button on the dashboard, setting off
     the flashing lights on the roof of