skepticgirl_1 | once you cross the line will you be satisfied?

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jake vickers

once you cross the line will you be satisfied?

In defense of me, this wasn't really my fault.

I had been minding my own business entirely when I saw the kid steal the old lady's purse. It was gross in how basic and immoral it was, just shoving her aside and yanking the purse right off her arm. She was well dressed, clearly rich, but frail and holding tight to one of those yappy lap dogs so she couldn't fight back. Someone had to fight back for her.

So I ran after the boy. I had no choice.

He was far faster than I thought any ten year old kid should be, but thanks to his bright orange hair, I saw him duck into what turned out to be a seedy looking bar from a block away. Kids should not be in bars and no one should be in a bar that looked this dark even in bright afternoon sun. So I went in through the back door, which had been left open to take in a delivery, and made my way stealthily to the main room. There was only one guy inventorying things in the back, so that had been pretty easy, too.

The fact that this was a gang den was completely unknown to me, so the fact that I had wandered into a gang den shouldn't be held against me. I was ignorant as to what was going on. But when I saw tiny bags of white powder being passed around, I knew I had a story. And that I had to call the cops, but first I had a story. I crouched behind the bar and listened to as many of the details as I could, needing to get all the information for the story. It was only when I had stopped to text Jake to give him a heads up to the situation that I got noticed.

A lot of mace and a police raid later, I stood outside the bar, watching triumphantly as several scowling men were being escorted, hands cuffed behind their backs, into police squad cars. I was already dreaming up a headline and hoping no employed reporter beat me to it.

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Jake's phone had gone off right in the middle of an interrogation so he'd ignored it for the moment. The suspect had given him a look, Jake had glared back and thankfully, they'd finished things up fairly quickly. He was stepping out of the interview room when he noticed the uptick in activity happening in the precinct.

Frowning, he pulled out his phone and checked the message.

"Bloody -- fuck," Jake said, bolting out of the station and catching a ride with another officer down to a bar. Shoving his way out of the car, he ignored the arrests happening and focused on the girl standing proudly outside like she'd done something that wasn't incredibly dangerous.

"Are you really that bloody crazy?" he snapped, staring at her. "What the hell were you thinking going in there?"

I honestly hadn't expected Jake to be angry. I had waited to text him to avoid worrying him, which, in hindsight, maybe I shouldn't have done. I probably should have said something immediately. But then I would have lost the story, the facts, the good stuff. I would have been left with nothing more than watching police officers cuffing bad guys. Now I had the satisfaction of that and a story.

"I thought I was getting an old lady's purse back," I snapped back. That was an iron clad excuse, I thought. Practically Girl Scout worthy. "And look! A whole drug ring just got busted. I think that's a pretty good result to my good Samaritan works, don't you?"

"You're not supposed to be getting involved with drug rings," Jake said, staring at her because she seemed so calm and collected about this. "Do you realize what could have happened to you? People like this just don't let you off with a warning and a bloody lecture. You could have been hurt!"

And he'd have felt responsible. It wouldn't have been his fault in anyway save for the fact that he'd ignored her text for a few minutes that could have been used to get cops there quicker. He swallowed around that guilt and dug into his anger.

"Was a stupid story really that important?" Jake asked her, hands on his hips. "Before you say anything, let me answer the question for you: no, it's not. That was stupidly risky. It was dumb."

I felt myself flush, blood rushing to my face. Adrenaline was already coursing through my veins after what had happened, making me feel good, excited, happy. And then Jake had to come in and rain on my parade. Not only that, but call my story unimportant and stupid. It felt like an honest to God slap in the face.

"It is not stupid," I said between gritted teeth. "This is my life. This is what I want to do with it. And, yeah, I'd say that story really was that important. It's a drug ring, Jake. People deserve to know about that. People should know what's going on in their city."

"That's what the bloody police are for," Jake argued, sighing and rubbing his hands over his face. "And your life is more important than a story! It is! I get it, you want to rush headfirst into danger and get the exclusive story but this was dangerous. What if one of them had a gun? A knife? What if they'd managed to get a hold of you before the cops got here? Did you think of that?"

He didn't want to be the cause of her expression right now He didn't want to upset her but his heart was pounding with how easily she could have been hurt or killed. Drug rings were typically full of wankers that had no problem offing someone that could put an end to their shenanigans.

"You could have been killed," he told her, shaking his head, "and I'd rather that not happen."

Edited 2017-09-08 18:41 (UTC)

"I don't know, I would have figured something out!" I had thought about what if they had guns or knives. I actually assumed they had guns or knives. They certainly had fists. But I trusted in myself to be able to get myself out of danger if I needed to. I had done it so many times before now, in what I thought of as worse situations than this. What was a petty drug ring to a mob boss? Jake's lack of faith in me upset me.

But I remembered too how upset my friends and my parents had been when I ran off and did something dangerous. Jake was my friend, but it was still weird to have someone not my parents show concern about something like this.

"Look, I appreciate that you'd rather not have me killed. I rather not be killed either. I swear I'm not looking for trouble, Jake. It just tends to find me."

"Having to figure something out when you're in a drug den is not a good thing to have to do," Jake retorted heatedly, shaking his head. Lois was pretty good at thinking on her feet, Jake could give her that but a teenager in the midst of so many awful people was not a good combination. They wouldn't have let her leave without some sort of violent assault and that thought made him sick.

Jake ran his fingers through his hair and huffed in annoyance. She'd gotten her story and gotten out of there alive but that didn't mean things could be back to normal. If she was going to go putting herself into obvious danger, something needed to happen to make it more likely that she'd come out alive.

"Do the people at the children's home know you do these things?" he asked, suspecting he already knew the answer to that question.

Okay, so he was probably right. A plan was probably a better option. But I hadn't had the opportunity to make a plan. I had to act fast and there was no way I could have known what I was walking into. By the time I got there, it was too late. I still didn't think this was my fault. I thought this was a good thing. Nothing Jake said would change my mind about that.

My blood went cold at his question. Of course I hadn't told anyone at the children's home about what I was up to. They weren't my parents. They hardly counted as guardians. They were just people who made sure we were fed, clothed and had a place to sleep. That was all that I wanted them to be.

"It's none of their business," I shot back. I felt a sinking dread. "Are you going to report me?"

"No, I'm not going to report you," Jake said, trying to figure out where he was going with this and if he was going to say what he actually thought he might say. His stomach had twisted with worry when he got her text and seeing her now, when she was fine, still had him heated up because she didn't seem to understand what could have happened.

"I want to help you and if that means -- if that means keeping a closer eye on you, I'll do it," Jake told her, tone steady even if the implication in his words made him nervous. "You need something more than what they're providing you. If you can't trust them, you're going to get hurt."

I frowned, trying to figure out what exactly he was saying. He wasn't going to report me to the children's home, so that made me feel safer. I didn't want or need them in my business. There was already a curfew that I hated; I didn't want any more restrictions put on me. Because I'd only break them and get into even more trouble. I wouldn't, couldn't listen to them. They were not my parents.

But if they weren't the solution to the apparent problem of me, what was Jake thinking?

"What, like... trailing me?" I honestly didn't think that was what he meant, but it was my best guess. "I don't get it."

"Trailing you? No, absolutely not. I wouldn't get any bloody sleep if I trailed you. I'd have to quit my job because that would take up all of my time," Jake said, glaring at her for that. He knew the children's home had a curfew and he knew she'd probably broken that a time or two before. He could only guess as to what she'd been up to late at night when she couldn't sleep or when she wanted to assert her independence away from the home.

"No. Volunteering to be your guardian," Jake told her, anger draining away from him quickly. It was replaced by nerves, though, worry that he'd overstepped and she'd think the offer was creepy more than anything else. "If you want."

He was right about the pointlessness of following me. If I knew he were trailing me, I would have purposefully made his life as difficult as possible. And it would have put a real cramp in our friendship, one that I really didn't want to be there. I was pleased when he said he wouldn't, and let out a soft breath that I hadn't known I was holding.

Then I gasped it back up into my lungs, loudly. I stared at him with wide eyes, my brain processing what he had said but my body unable to function properly in response.

I could have a guardian. I could get out of the children's home and I could have my freedom, have my own life, and have it with someone I genuinely liked. I didn't think of anything beyond that before I flung myself at Jake to hug him.

"Oh my God, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!"

Jake honestly hadn't been sure how she would take his offer. Maybe she'd think him creepy or overbearing or just not ready for something like that. It really could have gone either way. Jake knew she wanted a guardian but he wasn't sure if he fit all the parameters she might have had for someone that would help take care of her.

His answer came when she moved to hug him and Jake, surprised, was a little slow to return the hug but he did, patting her back and smiling lightly.

"We should, uh, probably talk more about this before we do anything," Jake suggested, looking down at the top of her head. "I'm not taking it back or anything and I won't but it's a pretty big thing. So, we should talk about how it's gonna work and all. Stuff."

If Jake wasn't hugging me as enthusiastically as I was hugging him, I didn't even notice or care. I couldn't believe that this was happening, that someone had actually volunteered. Maybe Jake was doing it just so that he hoped that it would prevent me, in some small way, from getting into too much trouble. But whatever the reason, he was offering and that was way more than I could have expected from anybody. He cared enough to offer.

I pulled away and took a step back, wiping at my cheeks reflexively even though they -- and my eyes -- were completely dry. Maybe I just felt like crying? A lot was happening at once here, from the chase and the drug bust and the swell of uniforms around me to Jake yelling at me and then saying he would be my guardian. That was even a lot for me to take in.

"Yeah, definitely stuff to talk about. And probably the home's gonna want to talk to you, too? I don't even know what they'd ask. You're a police officer. You should be golden. But they'll want to check anyway. Do you already have a second bedroom? Oh, God, I'm not gonna make you move, am I?"

"I -- think I have a second bedroom," Jake said, finding that his mind had momentarily gone blank. He shook his head, made a face at himself and then said, "There's a second bedroom. I just don't use it for anything since there's just, you know, me."

If he brought anyone home, they tended to stay in his room which was another thing that was going to have to be addressed. He didn't want to completely change his way of life but something would have to changed since he was going to do this. He'd just have to warn any blokes that he brought home that there was a teenage girl hanging out there and if that was weird, well, maybe he'd just suggest going to their flats all the time.

"I would assume the home's not just gonna let me take you, no," Jake agreed with a nod. "I'll be honest, I haven't really thought through the logistics of everything. I was going to ask during calmer circumstances after doing some research but my hand was a bit forced tonight."

I frowned at him real quick when he stuttered, for a second unsure of what I was getting into. He corrected himself easily enough, but it still made me wonder. I didn't know about Jake's living habits. I knew him, but not what time he got up in the morning, was he loud, did he leave wet towels and dirty clothes laying around, oh God what if he brought guys home and I was hanging out in the living room?

There was a lot we needed to talk about.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but I'm kind of glad it was forced," I said with a smirk. "I don't know how much more of the home I could have taken before going crazy." I would have lasted, truly, but this was much, much better.

I glanced over at the now smaller accumulation of cop cars. The bar was covered with crime scene tape and people were moving around about their business. "Do you need to do the thing?" I asked, nodding to his police buddies. "They already took my statement so we could get out of here."

"Please, you would have been fine," Jake said confidently. "Because you know what's worse than being in a home like that? Being in jail where you couldn't get into the type of trouble I know you love to get into. It would have been four walls, three meals a day and my ugly face staring you sternly. And yes, I can be stern."

He knew what his face looked like. He knew he looked young, innocent, untouched but he'd learned from his father and his father had the face of someone who was permanently sucking a lemon. Jake had been disappointed enough by his dad that he was well versed in being upset and angry.

Looking over, Jake watched a bunch of colleagues working the scene and shook his head. "Nah. I wasn't even supposed to be here. I was questioning some wanker when I looked at your text. Wasn't even on the call but I came anyway."

I cocked an eyebrow up at his assertion that he could be stern, smiling playfully all the while. "I'll believe it when I see it," I said, ignoring the fact that he had just finished giving me a scolding that my father would have approved up. But my father would have added in the threat of military school and taking away all that I held dear. Until I saw action like that coming from Jake, I wouldn't call him stern.

"Aw, you came all the way down here just for me?" I said. But it was a weak tease. My expression was already softening as I said it. Perhaps I hadn't intended to get into trouble, and perhaps I still would insist that I wasn't responsible for what had happened, but I had upset Jake and he really, truly cared.

"I'm sorry if I scared you, you know," I said quietly.

"Just -- try and avoid drug dens," Jake said with a shake of his head. He didn't think there were many of those in Darrow but the fact that there was one meant there could be another one somewhere that the cops didn't know about. If there was another, she'd probably find it without meaning it and he'd rather her not just waltz into one if she could help.

"You got lucky this time and you were brave but these kinds of things are really dangerous and they probably won't discriminate between a teenager and an adult, you know," Jake told her, watching a few officers drag a few stragglers out of the building.

"I'm not going to tell you to not do what you love to do but gotta pick your battles, mate," Jake told her. "Or else you're gonna end up in the hospital."

Or worse. He didn't want to think about 'or worse'.

"Okay, I can try to avoid drug dens," I promised. I was glad that Jake had inserted that "try" for me, without me having to sneak it into my sentence. I could certainly, always try to avoid drug dens -- and a whole lot of other dens of inequity -- but I wouldn't always succeed.

"And I promise to try to pick my battles." That was a little harder, especially considering the fact that I thought this battle was pretty well picked. It had started off as something totally reasonable and turned into something that needed to be done. Maybe I might have slipped out earlier, but I felt that what I heard and could give to the cops -- and any readers -- was worthwhile.

"But in the meanwhile, let's get some coffee? And talk about stuff."

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once you cross the line will you be satisfied?

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