What are Friends for?

This is a re-write of my first story, "A Demon, an Angel and a Baby." That story got a decent reception, but I wasn't happy with it and the comments bore out my concerns.

The plot here is very similar although some of the names have changed and the occult references have been removed. There is a lot more back-story and a lot more detail. Hopefully, it's a better story all the way around.

Please give it a read and let me know what you think.

BTW: This will be my last law enforcement related story for a while. I'll be moving into the fantasy world in the next one.

Rogue

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I'm Dean Grey. Pretty much an average guy, although I do have a better than average life. I'm a police officer with the Hamilton County PD. The county is a nice place to live, and the PD is a good place to work.

The City of Hamilton is the County Seat. It's not a big city, but it sits on Hamilton Bay, named for the guy who discovered it back when dinosaurs still ruled the Earth, so it's a tourist trap. A few museums and clubs, some theaters leaning toward country music, and the Bay. That draws them in droves; deep-sea fishing outside the Bay, scuba diving near the reef, sailing, water-skiing, you name it. We have a Double-A baseball team affiliated with the Baltimore Orioles and Pittsburgh Pirates. Hamilton State University plays basketball and Division II football. They went to a bowl game last year. Got beat, but at least they got invited. We used to have a minor league hockey team, but attendance wasn't good so they merged with a team in Virginia.

Most of the tourists are good people, although we get the usual assortment of rowdies and habitual drunks. The Coast Guard handles the Bay, and they only rarely ask for assistance. Problem is, during the warm weather months, Hamilton swells to big-city population numbers, and that means big-city crime. Gambling, drugs, prostitution, they all turn up. For the most part, we turn a blind eye to it, unless it spills over and bothers the 'good' folks. Then we come in.

The County has both a Police Department and a Sheriff's Office. The PD handles most of the patrol work. The SO handles the jail, serving warrants, drug enforcement, traffic enforcement and most of the miscellaneous details that pop up. The PD needs help occasionally, and they're not the least bit afraid to provide it. That works both ways. The two departments work well together.

I was raised in a family of athletes. Dad played minor league baseball in the Cincinnati Reds organization. He was a catcher. Never got past AA, though. They had some guy named Bench at the time. Oh, well... My brother played high school football, outside linebacker. He was good, but he didn't have the grades for college. Nobody offered him a scholarship, so he joined the Marines.

I guess when the Good Lord was handing out talent, I was on the disabled list. Don't get me wrong, now, I could hold my own, but nobody ever picked me first. So, when I joined the PD, I was happy that one of the guys invited me to play on the County's fast pitch softball team. It was co-ed, so it was a lot of fun. I ended up as the starting second baseman.

We were at my first team practice when I got fed another piece of humble pie. It was my turn for batting practice, so I stepped up to the plate. I'm a switch-hitter. I decided to bat right-handed, as the pitcher was a little blonde throwing leftie. I watched three pitches go past me, turned around and looked at the catcher.

"Who the hell is she?" I asked.

He just laughed. "That, my friend, is Micah Thornton. She's a detective with the SO. Don't worry, she's just showing off. Next time you come up, she'll go easy on you."

"I take it she's our starting pitcher?"

"Oh, yeah," he grinned. "Couldn't hit her way out of a wet paper bag, but she doesn't need to. Nobody can hit her, either."

I swung at three more pitches. Did manage to foul one of them off; one of them. My bat went up on my shoulder and I walked back to the bench. A couple of the guys were just laughing.

"Micah got you, too, huh?" grinned Dave Bradford, one of my colleagues, the team's shortstop. "She does that to all the newbies. Little smart ass."

"Yeah," I agreed. "Next time, I'll let her embarrass me left-handed."

We sat and watched her pitch, talking about pretty much nothing. Finally, I offered an unfortunate comment. "You know, she is kind of cute."

Dave turned on me like I'd lost my mind. "Cute? You can't be serious. She's skinny as a rail."

I just shook my head. "C'mon, Dave. They can't all be built like Dolly Parton."

"You gotta be kidding. Thornton would lose a wet t-shirt contest to a broomstick."

"Geez, man," I laughed. "Get your mind out of the gutter."

"Can't," he confessed. "I'm afraid of heights."

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Every six months or so, the County holds a dance for its employees. Civilians, PD, SO, the Fire Department and our three Ambulance Services all take part. The folks who don't want to attend usually volunteer to replace the people on duty who do want to go. Works out pretty well.

I'm not a Ladies' Man, but I've never had trouble getting dates if I wanted one. Women seem to like me, and I've always shown them respect, which helps a lot. I was at the dance, mixing with the rest of the crew. A few dances, a few drinks, a lot of just talking and watching. I saw Micah sitting in the far corner, talking to several others. I watched her for a bit and noticed she wasn't dancing. Being the 'gentleman' that I always tried to be, I went over and asked if she would like to dance. She looked at me, smiled, and offered her hand.

As we walked toward the dance floor, I admitted that I didn't know how to dance and asked if she did.

She looked up at me and grinned. "You've heard of people being born with two left feet, right?"

I nodded.

"Well, I was born with four."

That started me laughing. "What do you think the odds are that he's going to play a waltz?"

"About the same as anyone other than you asking me to dance."

The DJ had just started a slow ballad, so I got to hold her. She didn't seem to mind.

"Why would you say that?" I asked, a bit surprised by her comment. "It can't be that bad."

"Dean," she replied, snuggling a little deeper into my arms, "I'll give you two reasons for that. One, I'm not pretty. I know that. Two, I'm not easy. Doesn't make you real popular in this line of work."

That got a grimace from me. I knew exactly what she was talking about, and it was embarrassing. She was right; a lot of guys in law enforcement had the idea that a woman with a badge was either a lesbian or on the make. Some probably were, but it was still a brutal stereotype. I hated it. Didn't say much for us as a profession.

"I'm sorry, Micah. Please don't take this wrong, but I think you're pretty, and I don't expect anything more from you tonight than a dance or two. Is that alright?"

She smiled again and just shook her head. "Keep talking. I'm listening."

I sighed. "Well, at least you get to dance tonight, if you want to."

She stopped moving and let go of me. I thought she was going to turn around and walk away. Then she stepped back into my arms. "I think," she revealed, "I just found my dance partner for the rest of the night."

We did spend the remainder of the evening together. During one dance, I saw one of her girlfriends give her a thumbs-up. She chuckled and returned it. Apparently, she was pretty happy. Made me feel good. I saw Dave looking at us once. He just grinned and shook his head.

Toward the end of the night, I sat down with Micah and asked if it would be alright for me to ask her out at some point. She reached into her wallet, came up with a business card, turned it over and starting writing. When she finished, the card was presented to me.

"That's my cell number," she told me. "Now you don't have an excuse not to call me." She gave me a kiss on the cheek, and our evening was over.

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Micah and I started dating the next week. It was hard to find times that we were both off duty but, when it did happen, we were usually together. Nothing fancy; dinner, maybe a movie, a concert (the city hosted free concerts for the tourists and citizens) or just a walk on the beach. It was quiet, laid-back and a lot of fun.

After a couple of months, we started visiting each other's apartments to watch TV or movies together. We'd order Chinese, get a bucket of fried chicken or pick up a pizza. Never asked her to cook, except maybe to microwave some popcorn. She surprised me one evening with a lasagna. I hadn't suspected it, but she could cook. Boy, could she cook. Didn't want to make her do it too often, though. Plus, if I'd been eating her cooking, I'd have looked like a blimp. Yeah, she was that good.

We cuddled on the sofas, but things never got intimate. We were so comfortable with each other it just didn't seem necessary. I'm not sure either of us expected it to develop into a romance, but it did.

She was at my place and we were watching an old sci-fi movie, a favorite of mine. It wasn't gory or anything like that, but it had a couple of what they called jump scares. Weren't many, but the ones that were in there were effective.

One of the more intense ones did scare her, and she did jump. I wrapped my arms around her and chuckled, "Don't worry, baby. I won't let it get you."

She gave me an unimpressed smirk. "My hero," she scoffed, "as if I need one." Nonetheless, she reached up to kiss me.

I doubt that she meant it as more than a fleer, an affectionate brushing of the lips. But, for some reason, she didn't pull back. As our kiss lingered, mine morphed from affectionate to aggressive to passionate. When I realized what was happening, I drew back, looking down, a little ashamed of myself. "I'm sorry, Micah. I shouldn't have done that."

She sat up, then stood up. As she did so, I started mentally berating myself. 'That was really brilliant, genius. You just blew this evening to hell.'

To my surprise, she reached for my hand and pulled me to my feet. I was completely stunned when I realized she was leading me to my bedroom. When we got there, she put her hands on my shoulders and reached up to kiss me again.

It wasn't anything Penthouse or Hustler would have been interested in, but it was plenty good for us. I had enough experience with women to know that foreplay was important, and I was pretty good at oral sex. Her skin tasted like cinnamon and I was in no hurry. Her throat, her shoulders, her breasts, her knees, her toes, they all got their share of attention. When I finally reached her intimate zones, she was more than ready.

My tongue slid up the inside of her thigh to her slit. It penetrated gently but as deeply as it could. Her hands reached down to my head and she began to groan. It was only a minute or so until my lips moved to her clit.

She bucked hard against me and pushed my face into her as hard as she could. She didn't get much resistance. She had orgasmed twice when she finally grabbed my hair and pulled me on top of her.

Her eyes looked into mine as though she couldn't believe what was happening. That made two of us. She locked her arms and legs around me as we started to move together. We held a gentle kiss throughout while my right thumb massaged her left nipple. After several minutes, we came together; soft, shuddery and delightful.

We stayed coupled for a bit, then I rolled to my side, pulling her against me. I kissed her hair, her forehead, her eyes, the tip of her nose, then her lips. We fell asleep in each other's arms.

I'd like to say that this was the start of a mad, passionate affair, but it wasn't. It didn't happen again for quite a long time. We didn't need it to.

She did throw me a curve about a month later, and it wasn't from the pitcher's mound.

We were munching on a pizza when she looked up and said, "If you don't mind my asking, when does your lease expire?"

That threw me for a moment. "Uh, I'm not sure. The month after next, I think."

"That should work," she nodded. "Mine expires at the same time. I want to get out of here. I've got a chance to move into Moonraker, but I can't afford it on my own. Would you like to move in with me?"

My eyes got wide and I started thinking, hard. I knew we had graduated beyond just being friends but living together hadn't seriously crossed my mind yet. Oh, I'd thought about it but, when I did, it got tossed aside like all of my other bright ideas.

"I don't know, Micah," I finally replied. "I'm not sure that's a good idea."

She looked surprised. "It isn't? Why not?" she asked.

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "If I move in with you," I confessed, "you're never gonna get rid of me."

A contemplative smile crossed her face as she looked at me. She started to chew lightly at her lower lip. Nibbling at another bite of pizza, she swallowed and grinned. "I think I can live with that."

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Two months later we moved into the Moonraker Apartments. They weren't quite luxury apartments, but they were close. Built in dishwasher and microwave in the kitchen. A huge bathroom with a walk-in shower and a hot tub. They were still kind of pricey even for two of us. Micah opted for a one-bedroom unit. I didn't mind.

We had a blast. She had a huge, big-screen TV and I had a huge collection of DVDs; sci-fi, horror, comedies, even a couple of Chick Flicks (bleh). She didn't like documentaries, but you can't have everything. We didn't have any trouble finding something to watch.

She found a great little pizza place close to the apartments, so pizza became our go-to on movie nights. Only points of dissension were over sausage, pepperoni, mushrooms and green olives. The folks at D'Angelo's laughed their asses off while we argued over the toppings. We got a lot of half & half pizzas.

She came home one evening with her lips curled into a frown. That got a quick reaction from me.

"Hey, babe, what's wrong? You look awful unhappy."

"Not really," came the correction. "Just a little concerned. My folks called me at work today. They want to come see my new apartment."

"Okay," I shrugged. "Is that a problem?"

She sat down next to me on the sofa, sliding out of her shoes. "Could be," she sighed. "Mom and Dad are traditionalists. Not sure they're gonna like the idea that I'm living with a guy I'm not married to."

That rang a bell. My mother was old school Italian, from the home country. Her idea was that women should wear chastity belts and men should have locking BVDs until they were married. I grimaced before looking at Micah.

"Would you like me to move into a motel for a couple of days while they're here?"

"Nah. I'm not going to do that to you. Besides, how could we hide all of your stuff? It would be obvious there's a guy living here. They're just gonna have to accept that I'm a big girl now and I'll make my own decisions."

The wheels started turning. I realized there might be a hare-brained way to get around the problem. "Well, don't worry too much. I've got a friend in my old church who might be able to help us. Give me a little time to work on this. They're not gonna visit in the next week or two, are they?"

"I don't know. Probably not. My guess would be early next month."

"Okay. I'll see what I can do."

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Jim Davis had been my friend since I first moved to Hamilton. We were both northerners; Jim from Michigan and me from Minnesota. We'd played hockey as kids, but there wasn't much winter weather in Hamilton. Opportunities to ice skate were beyond rare. There was an indoor ice rink, but ice time was expensive. During the winter months, we played in the men's league there. We were on the same team. I was a goalie and Jim played defense.

He owned a jewelry store. I called Jim and explained what Micah had told me. After he got done laughing, he told me to come see him. He'd take care of it. When I showed up, he offered to loan me an engagement ring / wedding band set. The only stipulation was that I had to pay to have them cleaned when I returned them. Or, if I chose, he would sell them to me at a discounted price as 'used' merchandise. How could I refuse?

The set he showed me was perfect. I loved Micah's blonde hair and green eyes. This set had one ring with three emeralds separated by two small diamonds, with a matching diamond solitaire. The rings were yellow gold. I gave him a down-payment right then.

Micah and I somehow managed to have the following Friday night off together. She'd just put a movie in the DVD player and sat down beside me on the sofa. As she pointed the remote at the TV, I gently removed it from her hand. She rewarded me with a questioning stare. "What are you doing?"

"Uh, before the movie, I have something I'd like to show you. It might solve the problem with your parents." I reached into my back pocket and pulled the little velvet box out into the light. "Do you think these might help?"

Micah caught her breath as the box opened. Her eyes locked on mine with a shocked, disbelieving expression. "Um, you want me to wear those?" she whispered.

"If you want to, yes. When they leave, I can take them back to the jeweler or you can keep them, whichever you want."

She stared at the rings like she was afraid to touch them. I had to turn her hand palm up and set the box in it before she'd even look at them closely. Her bottom lip started to tremble and her eyes glazed. "Uh, Dean, what does this mean?"

I sighed. Now I was seriously concerned that she was frightened. I rubbed at my chin before answering. "It means whatever you want it to. Maybe nothing, maybe everything. It's your choice, baby."

She was chewing on her lip now. Without looking at me, she asked, "Are you proposing to me?"

'Oh, God!' I thought. 'How the hell could I miss that?' Of course, she would think a wedding set was a proposal. It was about as brain-dead a move as I could have made. If I said no, she would be seriously insulted. If I said yes, she might feel that I'd tricked her into a corner. Neither was a good option. But then, if I did say yes, she had the option to say no. If I said no, there was no option at all.

"Micah, you don't have to marry me. You could just tell your folks we're engaged. After they leave, you can tell them we want more time or it just didn't work out."

She lifted the engagement ring from the box, staring at it incredulously. "You didn't answer my question."

My eyes closed and I sighed again. I paused for a moment, seeing her turn toward me with an unreadable expression. I was stuck now. I'd painted myself into a corner and I only had one way out. "Yes. Will you marry me?"

She handed the ring to me, shaking her head. "You're nuts, you know that?"

My frown probably said it all. I looked down toward my feet. "Yeah, I've been told that before. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done this to you."

My stomach was turning over. I really loved Micah, but I'd just blown our relationship to hell. Where did we go from here? There wasn't any way to start over. We were way past that stage. Now it was just a matter of trying to repair the damage, not hurt her anymore than I already had. I looked at the ring and felt miserable.

"Dean?"

"Yeah."

She extended her hand toward me. "Aren't you going to put it on?"

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It was about two weeks later that her parents came to visit. I was on evening watch now and was in the bedroom getting into uniform when I heard the door open and Micah greet her parents. I fastened on my duty belt and went out to meet them.

"Mom, dad," she said, "this is Dean Grey. He's with Hamilton PD."