Page 2 of Bazooka

“It’s summer, Al,” I reminded him. “There’s no flu going around. You’re probably just hot.”

Dakotah looked anxiously over his shoulder. “I need to pee, but the restroom line is so long. Darn it.”

After he left, I reached for my phone, which kept pinging with texts. I scrolled through a dozen happy birthday wishes, hoping to see the one name that wasn’t there. Then, because I was a masochist, I searched for that name and the three-month-old texts.

Me: Hey, Bazooka. Long time no see. Not since the wedding, right? The grooms were so handsome, but do you know who was even more handsome?

Me: Me. Just kidding. It was you. God, you can rock a suit. I would have complimented you then, but you didn’t want to talk to me.

Me: I know that we basically just met, but you did save my life. The Butcher of Smitsville would have butchered me if it weren’t for you. I will be forever grateful.

Me: Oh, and that blonde slut who was hitting on you at the wedding... I didn’t mean to set her hat on fire. It was the wind, you know? It just happened.

Me: I’m not a pyro, okay?

Me: Are you there?

Me: Would it kill you to text me back?

Me: You can’t ignore me forever, Baz.

Detective Levi “The Bazooka” Bradley entered my life one warm autumn night.

He came to Smitsville to help the local police catch a serial killer, and I was the bait.

After he saved my life, he returned to New Mesa without a second thought, while I couldn’t put him out of my head.

It was the first time someone had rejected me, so it was a hard blow to my ego.

He said he was straight, but it didn’t discourage me because he could always change his mind, right?

Then I went to Thorsen and Carter’s wedding…

fine, I crashed it. Bazooka was there, but he could have been on the moon.

He ignored me all the time and wouldn’t talk to me.

He refused to dance with me, which was foolish because I was a superb dancer.

He brooded by the wine buffet and chatted to the blonde slut with an ugly hat who just wouldn’t leave him alone.

When I pulled her to the side and informed her that I was his future boyfriend, the bitch laughed in my face, so…

maybe I did set her hat on fire. Maybe it wasn’t the wind.

I kept scrolling until I found the texts I’d sent to him two months ago.

Me: Hey, Baz. You changed your phone number again and forgot to tell me. But, as you know, I have my sources. Did you miss me?

Me: Would you like to know who gave me your phone number? I know you’re dying of curiosity. Just text me back and I’ll tell you, I swear. You’re one text away from finding out.

Me: You can’t ignore me forever.

Me: By the way, I went on a date yesterday. With a man. He reminded me of you, so I accepted his invitation. Are you jealous?

Me: Don’t worry. It didn’t work out. You’re still my number one.

It was the truth. I met a guy who reminded me of Bazooka, so I gave him a chance.

He, too, had dark hair, but his was of a dull, umber shade, which reminded me of mud and bad weather.

It couldn’t compare to the vibrant chestnut shade of Bazooka’s hair, and it didn’t seem even remotely as soft.

The guy’s eyes, which seemed gray at first, weren’t gray at all, but kind of poopy brown.

Bazooka had beautiful eyes, gray like the fog curling around a haunted English manor, and yes, they made me spout poetry on occasion.

Bazooka look-alike also had a beard like Bazooka, but it wasn’t as neat or even remotely as kissable. So, yeah, it didn’t work out.

The last texts I’d sent to Bazooka were a month old.

Me: I know you’re straight, but texting me back won’t make you gay, you know?

Me: By the way, my birthday is one month from now. What will you get me?

Me: I don’t need presents per se. A kiss is fine.

Me: Will you ever text me back?

Me: If you don’t, I’ll just keep on bothering you. You know I will.

Me: Because I like you.

Me: Although you don’t like me.

Granted, I was drunk when I sent him that; otherwise, I wouldn’t have served him those words on a platter. The words he didn’t deserve, not after not texting me one freaking time.

“Yo, homo! You forgot to put on lipstick.”

The offensive words made me look up as Dakotah returned to the table, red in the face from embarrassment.

“The line was soo long,” he mumbled, keeping his gaze on the table. “Um… is there more cake? Also, this shirt was probably a bad idea. Too silky, maybe?”

The stinky foursome laughed at the crude joke one of them delivered, and it made me lose it.

“Yo, asshole!” I bellowed, glaring at the red-haired jock who had offended my friend. “You forgot to put a ball gag in your mouth. Shut the fuck up.”

He and his three pals looked wasted and dangerous, but what the hell?

The toothless asshole stood up with his fists clenched.

“You’re going to get pummeled tonight, birthday boy,” he growled, as his friends stood up as well. “You should shut your mouth if you want to live to see another birthday.”

“I’m not afraid of you, you homophobic prick,” I said, ignoring my friends who were shushing me. “By the way, if you like me, you could have just said so. Not stare at me the entire evening as if I’m a human hamburger.”

“That’s it, you’re dying,” the asshole hissed, stomping toward me when Ruby stood in his way.

“Not in this bar, pal. If you want to fight or offend people, do it elsewhere. One more word from you and I’m calling the police. The station is a block away, by the way.”

The jock and his goons returned to their table, but the way he glared at me told me he was far from calming down.

When my phone pinged again, my heart somersaulted in my chest. Maybe it was… no, just a text from an acquaintance.

“Luz,” Alain said with a sigh. “If Bazooka hasn’t texted you in three months, he never will. Come on! You can have anyone you want, from here to New Mesa. This fixation is just… unhealthy.”

“I’m texting him just to mess with him,” I stated, refusing to back down. “And ‘cause I’m bored.”

Reluctant to discuss it further, I dialed the number of the one person who could actually help me.

“Happy birthday, Luz,” Detective Jordan Slade said instead of a greeting. “I was about to call you to congratulate you.”

Jordan was one of my cop buddies from the Loser’s Division, but he was a good guy. Not everyone who ended up in the LD was a bad seed.

“Thanks. Um… I need a favor. Bazooka changed his phone number again and forgot to tell me.”

Jordan whined. “Luz, I can’t get in the middle of this. I have given you his phone number three times already. He will figure out it’s me.”

“You owe me, Jordie,” I pointed out. “I helped you guys catch the Butcher of Smitsville, remember?”

Jordan let out a heavy sigh. “How could I forget when you keep reminding me? By the way, Chief Bibb is getting twitchy about you despite being grateful, just so that you know.”

“I can handle him.”

“Look, I’ll text you Bazooka’s number this one time, but it’s the last time. I don’t want him to kill me when he gets here.”

I almost fell off my chair. “What did you just say?”

Jordan groaned. “Fuck. I’m such an idiot.”

My heart was all over the place, threatening to burst out of my chest.

“Spill it, Jordie, or I’m coming to the station,” I threatened, breathless. “I’m not kidding. I’m standing up. Heading to the—”

“No, wait! He’s… erm… Bazooka is joining the LD, okay? Temporarily, though. There’s a case that’s bothering us, so he’s coming here to help us out. But don’t tell him I told you. Don’t tell anyone I told you.”

I gulped. Fucking hell. Baz was coming to Smitsville.

“I won’t tell a soul,” I said, my mind reeling. “Thanks, Jordie.”

A moment later, I got his text with Bazooka’s new phone number. I added it to my contacts as “Bazooka (my future boyfriend)” and sent Bazooka a text.

Me: You could have at least congratulated me on my birthday.

Before I could send another text saying something like, “I can’t wait to see you”, Dakotah took away my phone.

“Enough,” he said, sliding the phone into my shirt pocket. “We’re going to Nirvana. You need to dance it out of your system.”

I rolled my eyes. “Fine, but I’m getting drunk tonight, and don’t you dare stop me. I’m in a celebratory mood.”

Dakotah was right, though. I’ve been obsessing over that guy for no good reason.

The last time I saw him, he barely talked to me.

He ignored my very existence. He lived in another city.

And he was straight. So why then? Why couldn’t I get him out of my head?

Maybe it was time for me to get laid, since I…

Well, I haven’t hooked up with anyone since I met Baz. My heart just wasn't in it.

Wagner called us an Uber, which arrived in less than a minute. Of course, it was too good to be true.

“Just tree ,” the driver said in broken English when Wagner opened the passenger door. “No for . Tree .”

No four? Just three? Really?

“Oh, come on. It’s this guy’s birthday,” Alain said, pointing at me. “And the club is close by.”

The driver shook his head adamantly. “No for . Tree .”

“Just go,” I said, reaching for my phone. “I’ll call myself an Uber and meet you at the club.”

“Don’t be late, as always,” Wagner said as they scrambled into the car.

“It’s called being fashionably late, Wagner.”

“You’re full of shit, Luz.”

After they drove off, I opened the app, but the reception was shit because my phone was even bigger shit. I headed across the dark, half-empty parking lot, waiting for more dots to appear. I’d almost reached the nearby park when I finally got a signal. Then, I heard a voice behind me.

“Yo, birthday boy. Having fun yet?”

Shit.