After picking up the bizarre combination for dinner tonight, the commissioner and I walked up to his house, bonding over an insane love for Mexican and French foods. When we got to the door we heard a rather loud crash and a string of profanities that would put most truckers to shame. Charlie put the box he was carrying down on the small table by the door and rushed to help Isabella as she slid to the floor with tears running down her face.
I observed everything around me, unsure of what else I could do. Taking in the hallway we were currently standing in, I noticed scrapes along the otherwise impeccable cherry floor and skid marks leading into the hall closet. Something was off, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.
I looked back to the commissioner and his daughter still sitting against the banister. He was the picture of a perfect father, pulling her into his lap even though she had to be sixteen years old, at least, kissing her knee to make the pain go away, and she was the picture of nervousness. Her hands were fidgeting in her lap and in the silence of the hallway I could almost make out her increased heart rate. After taking in the physiological signs, I took in what most people would see first, the outward appearance. Bella was dressed in tiny fucking sequin shorts, which should be illegal the way they fit her, a white and red tank top, heels that made her legs look amazing, and several chunky, but feminine rocker accessories. I was memorizing the little details of her face, the way her hair was clinging to the trails her tears left down her face, and how her chocolate brown eyes captivated me when my phone went off. I politely excused myself before answering the call.
“God damn it Peter!” I said, leaning my head against the door.
“Are you always this nice to people who call you? No wonder your parents don’t talk to you.” Peter said, shuffling papers around.
“I’m only like this when you call. Do you have some gift that tells you to call when you are most likely to interrupt me?”
“I don’t think I do. Anyway, you need to get down here. Angela managed to find a security camera that covers the commissioner’s house as well as his neighbors. It has some interesting footage from the night of the murder” Peter said, hanging up before I could respond.
I walked inside, deciding that whatever Angela found would still be there in the morning. When I rejoined Bella and Charlie, they had the food spread across the table and Bella seemed to be watching me intently. I caught her attention and smiled, letting her know that I knew she was watching me. Taking my seat next to her, I took the opportunity to talk to her.
“So Miss Bella, what has you studying me so intently?” I asked, hoping my southern charm could get her to be honest with me.
“Well, Detective Whitlock, you see, I was noticing the salsa dripping down your face and wondering if it would be appropriate for me to lick it off of you.” she said, winking as she got up from the table and walked through one of the archways.
I continued to stare at the doorway that she had just disappeared through, wondering why my boss’s daughter had to be so fucking hot and cheeky. This was going to be bad for both my job and my personal safety. Commissioner Swan, or Charlie as I was told to call him, was incredibly protective of his daughter since a rather unintelligent criminal threatened to get rid of her if he was charged for his crimes. The moron is sitting in the Louisiana State Penitentiary and Isabella is watched like a hawk. I was pulled out of my musings when Isabella walked back into the dining room, in a very different outfit than before. Her toned legs were covered by a pair of dark denim skinny jeans. She was wearing a black tank top that hugged her curves in all the right places and perched on top of her wavy brunette hair was a black hat accented with a small bow tie. As I looked back down her body, taking in her curves for a second time, I noticed what she was wearing on her feet. How did she manage to get my black cowboy boots? I don’t remember taking them off after putting them on this morning. Shaking my head in confusion, I watched as she leaned in to hug her father, catching a glimpse of the cheeky grin she gave me when she noticed my appraisal of her outfit.
“Daddy, I’m going out with Angela and Alice. I won’t be out late, and I will say good night before heading to bed so you know I made it home.” Isabella said as she kissed his cheek.
“Baby Girl,” Charlie said, grabbing her wrist lightly to stop her, “You still have to talk to Jasper about Mike, I think you should do that before going out with your friends.”
“But Daddy, the girls are already here, and I promised them weeks ago that I’d go out tonight.” Isabella said, sounding more like a two year old that didn’t get their way than the young lady she was.
“Commissioner Swan, its fine. I really should be heading home since I have the early shift tomorrow, and I’ve already taken up enough of your time this evening. If it is okay with you and Isabella, just have her come by the station tomorrow and I’ll ask any questions I have.” I walked toward the door, nodding politely to Charlie as I passed. Bella and I got to the door at the same time, smiling as I leaned against the door, effectively stopping her.
“You know Isabella, if you wanted to wear something of mine all you had to do was ask.” I said, looking from her warm brown eyes to my well-warn, black boots before walking out to my car.
When I got to my car, I pulled out an old pair of tennis shoes I keep with me in case I’m thrown on a case with a decomposing body. After lacing up the shoes, my attention is soon pulled toward the only unknown vehicle in the driveway, an emerald green Porsche convertible. Isabella stood in front of the driver’s side door talking with two girls, who I assumed where Angela and Alice.
As I stood there, blatantly staring, Isabella’s eyes connected with mine and she motioned to her friends. I sat in my driver’s side making notes about the dinner and everyone’s behavior, jumping slightly when there was a light tap on my window. Looking up, I saw Isabella standing there looking kind of impatient.
“Isabella, is there something I can help you with?” I said, rolling the window down.
“Actually, there are two things you can help me with. One, can I wear your boots tonight? And two, answer honestly, do you think it’s sexy that I’m wearing said boots?” she asked, gently biting on her nail.
“Well darlin’, I guess since you asked so nicely, you can wear them. There is one condition though,” I said pausing to gage her reaction.
“And what would that condition be Detective Whitlock?” Isabella asked, raising a slender eyebrow as a challenge.
“I go where the boots go, so that I ensure that I get them back in the morning of course.” I said, letting my smile relax into a smirk.
“Are you asking me out on a date Mr. Whitlock?” she asked, even though she knew that was exactly what I was doing.
“Only if you are accepting Miss Swan.” I said, opening the door to my ’65 Mustang Fastback.
I felt her fingers work their way into the belt loops on my low slung, dark wash jeans as she began to pull me closer. At this rate, I would be putty in her delicate hands, and her father would have my job, and most likely my head. I slowly dragged my hands down her arms, gently wrapping my callused fingers around her writs, pulling her fingers out of my belt loops.
“Your father is my boss, Isabella. I can’t do this in front of him” I said walking toward her friends and Isabella’s Porsche.
As she got into the driver’s seat, she mumbled something that sounded a lot like, “I’m only Isabella if I’m being punished.” I couldn’t hold back the smile that formed as I filed that piece of information away for later use.
Isabella drove us downtown to The Howlin’ Wolf. The place was packed. A local R&B group was on stage performing, and the bartender was heavy handed tonight. I smiled, knowing things were about to get interesting. The girls went off to find one of the few tables off to the side, and I went to go get drinks for the four of us. I ordered a round of After 5 shots, a Chocolate Chip Ice Cream for Alice, a Cherry Hooker for Angela, a Hemingway Daiquiri for Isabella, and a beer for me. After passing out the drinks, we took our shots and the girls ran off to the dance floor.
After finishing my beer and half of Angela’s second drink, I allowed Isabella to drag me out to the dance floor when some pop dance song came on. In my less than coherent state, caused by a mild case of sleep deprivation and the alcohol I had consumed, I didn’t realize Isabella had started using my body as a pole for her to dance on. When she stood again, I grabbed on to her hip, quickly turning her around to face me before backing us up toward one of the wooden beams that lined the dance floor. Pushing my body against hers, I leaned in close enough so that she’d be the only one to hear me.
“I think it’s time we went home. Get your girls and meet me at the car” I said, leaving her standing against the beam, panting and swearing up a storm.
