For two days straight, Jack had been lost in Zoe's apartment — her living room, her kitchen, her bathroom… even her closet. Only when the haze cleared did he remember something important:
He had three days left before reporting to the Wilshire Division, and he still didn't have a place to live.
Apartments weren't common in Los Angeles. Most people lived in single-family homes or duplexes. Jack had been willing to risk a sketchy neighbourhood, but Zoe and Hannah vetoed that immediately.
He'd thought about asking John to share a place, but John was already living it up in a mansion with a wealthy friend. Typical.
In the end, Jack wound up in the attic above Hannah's garage. Cheap rent was the upside. The downside? He was now her full-time cook… and her chest bore proof of her "gratitude" in the form of playful bite marks.
As for Zoe, they agreed to limit themselves to once-a-month meetups until they figured things out.
Wilshire Division, rookie day.
The patrol briefing room buzzed with nervous chatter. Jack slid into the front row, where rookies were corralled while the veterans lounged in back.
A minute later, Lucy Chen stumbled in looking miserable. She lit up when she saw him.
"What's wrong?" Jack whispered as she dropped into the seat beside him.
"My car died this morning," she groaned. "I had to push it two blocks, and some moron actually tried to rob it in broad daylight. Then, right before I walked in, I ran into Officer Bradford. He told me if he gets assigned as my training officer, I'm screwed."
Jack leaned closer. "Rookie hazing's a thing. And, well… Murphy's Law says you probably will end up with him."
"Don't," Lucy muttered, sinking lower in her chair.
The door swung open. John Nolan rushed in, straightening his uniform. Spotting Jack and Lucy, he sighed with relief and sat next to them.
Before anyone else could speak, the room quieted. A middle-aged Black officer strode in — Sergeant Wade Gray, the shift commander.
Assignments were handed out quickly. Lucy, as fate would have it, got Officer Bradford, the bulldog himself. John landed with Officer Talia Bishop, a no-nonsense African-American woman.
And Jack? He was paired with Angela Lopez — a sharp-eyed Latina officer sitting beside Hannah, who winked smugly at him.
The rookies filed out, and Jack caught sight of John being held back by Sergeant Gray for a private lecture. Poor guy. The oldest rookie in LAPD history wasn't going to have it easy.
Later, in the motor pool.
"Do you still want this car?" Angela Lopez asked, hands on her hips. Her tone made it clear: this was her ride.
Jack frowned at the beat-up Chevrolet patrol unit in front of them. They'd just brought in two women suspected of burglary — a couple who had broken into a house, trashed the bathroom, and gotten a little too frisky in the process. By the time Jack and Angela hauled them back to the station, the back seat of the cruiser was a war zone.
Now the two rookies stood there in rubber gloves and masks, scrubbing away.
Jack gagged, muttering, "I feel like I've lost part of my soul. Every time I close my eyes, I'm gonna see that scene. Why can't they ever look like the women in movies?"
"Say one more word," Angela snapped, spraying half a can of disinfectant, "and I'll tank your eval today."
Jack zipped his lips, miming the motion with a smirk.
Angela wasn't quite how he remembered her from the show. Softer features. Big brown eyes. But the job had left its mark — her skin a little dry, her manner brisk, efficient. A tomboy through and through.
"Turn right ahead," she said as they pulled back onto the street. "Food truck in the park. We eat there."
The rookies regrouped around a few picnic tables. Jack carried over the big lunchboxes he'd packed that morning. John and Lucy were already seated, both looking worse for wear.
"Rough morning?" Jack asked, setting his things down.
"Someone needs a hug," Lucy muttered darkly.
"Don't even try," she warned John as he opened his arms.
He pulled them back sheepishly. "Look, instructors test us by pushing buttons. Don't take it personally. Just figure out what pleases them — simple as that."
Lucy glared. "Then I guess you already know what your training officer likes for lunch, right?"
John froze, caught. Jack hid his grin, turned to the food truck, and ordered a burrito and two Cokes for Angela. Then he flipped open his own lunchbox.
Angela's eyes widened. "Wait, what's this? You made that yourself?"
"Fried wontons," Jack said casually. "Shepherd's purse and pork. Try one." He passed her a fork. "Oh — and chili sauce. Homemade."
Angela took a bite, then another. Her eyes lit up. "This is amazing. I've never had anything like it."
Jack leaned back, shooting John and Lucy a mischievous wink. Isn't this what you meant by pleasing the instructors?
(End of Chapter 3)