The captain walked in with the SWAT team squad leader and the police commissioner.
Where the fuck are you, God?
The captain began the meeting. After all the introductions were made, and duties were assigned, the captain turned to him.
“Where’s Godfrey?” The captain scanned the room again, his sharp eyes falling back on Day.
“He’s following up on a tip, sir,” Day lied.
“Okay. That must have been a damn important tip if it warranted missing a mandatory strategy meeting.”
“It was, sir.” Day kept his eyes locked on the captain, shutting out the other forty sets of eyes in the large room. After a couple seconds the captain resumed to talking to the group, and Day let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
“All right people, you have your assignments. We’ll meet back here at 0900 next Tuesday for an update and briefing. Dismissed.” Day tried to leave before the captain snagged him. No luck.
“What type of tip, Day?” The captain looked at him with a cut the bullshit look.
“I’m going to find out, sir.” Day didn’t wait for a response. He hightailed it out of there and made his way back to the bullpen. He stopped by his desk to grab his leather coat and helmet, moving fast, trying to avoid any more questions. But there were a lot of officers who needed his and God’s input on this case. It was priority one and he and God were the go-tos for information.
Day went out the back door and walked around to the parking lot. He saw Ronowski and Vikki getting into their squad car, choosing to ignore Ronowski flipping him off.
Closeted bastard. I can’t wait for the day you beg to suck my cock, and then I’m gonna ram it down your throat.
Day kicked up his stand and raced the engine a couple times before taking off to find his partner.
Falling and Can’t Get Up
Day pulled his bike onto the sidewalk leading to God’s apartment. He refused to leave his Harley on the street. The complex didn’t have front door parking and sometimes you had to walk a good ways from where you parked. Day took one look at the long row of cars that had broken taillights, cracked windows, and flattened tires and knew he wasn’t leaving his bike out there. Day checked his holster and released the snaps that secured his weapons.
This was a shitty neighborhood with even shittier residents, but God had an arrangement with the dealers in the area. He didn’t bust them and they didn’t fuck with him, his apartment, or his truck. Besides, they were all low-level dealer guppies in a big damn pond, and God and Day only went after the big fish. For the life of him, Day couldn’t figure out why God lived in this part of town. A detective’s pay grade didn’t allow them lifestyles of the rich and famous, but they could afford decent housing.
Day dropped his kickstand down, parking his bike right under God’s kitchen window. He saw five thug-looking men standing a few feet away next door.
“You guys seen God?” Day asked them.
A man with tattoos completely covering his naked chest spoke up first. “Nah, man, he ain’t been out yet. Some little kids knocked on his door about an hour ago wanting to clean his truck, but he didn’t answer,” he paused looking Day up and down. “You can go on in, it ain’t locked.”
Day quirked one eyebrow at the man. “And how would you know that?”
The guy blew out a large billow of smoke from the joint he was smoking before answering, “Because it’s never locked. Besides, ain’t no one going up in there.”
Day snorted. “Oh yeah, why not?”
The thug wore a deadly expression and looked Day in his eyes. “Because he’s God.”
The respect that God demanded and obviously received from these men had Day’s cock getting hard. His man was a badass and a force to be reckoned with. God lived in the slums of Atlanta, smack dab in the middle of the urban jungle… and the man didn’t even have to lock his front door.
“We know you’re his partner. Go on in.” The man nodded his head toward the door. “Don’t worry about your bike, ain’t no one gonna fuck with it.”
“Thanks, man.” Day nodded once and went inside God’s small one-bedroom apartment.
God wasn’t a slob; the tiny place was tidy. His kitchen was to his immediate right. Day closed the door and went right to the mini-coffeemaker, and started a fresh pot. There were no dishes in the sink, only a bowl and spoon in the drying rack on the counter. It didn’t smell like God had cooked anything this morning either. Everything was neat and in its place.
God’s sixty-five-inch television took up over half of his living room. Since he didn’t have a table for eating in the small dining area, God had combined the two spaces to allow room for his futon recliner. The small area rug in front of the TV had a moderately sized gaming chair on it, no doubt where God sat when he played PlayStation 3.