Chapter 4

Cassandra

Every morning of mine is the same. I wake up at 5:00, workout, drink coffee, shower, eat a light breakfast, and then begin my day.

Today is an exception.

I extend my arm out, turning off my alarm at exactly 5:00. The bright red numbers blink on the clock and remind me that today is Monday. And not just any Monday, today is my first day of work. I get out of my soft, queen-sized bed and open the blinds. The sunlight brings warmth into my room and shines onto my thin blue line American flag comforter and matching pillows. The light immediately brightens my small room with gray walls and a white border frame. Besides the one picture that adorns my wall, my wall is a blank canvas. I have never really liked photos because of my past and I would rather not have a daily reminder plastered on my wall that I was once overweight.

I walk to the right side of the bed and look up at the one picture hanging on my gray wall. The picture is the day Tarra and I were with our dad at the station when he received his Sergeant position.

"Wish me luck today, Daddy."

I turn on my forty-five-inch television, sync my phone to the TV, and begin my morning playlist.

As soon as Linkin Park starts playing, I pick up my dumbbells and begin my workout.

Thirty minutes later, I finish my workout and then enter the bathroom. Tarra's room and my room both connect to the bathroom, so sometimes she beats me to the shower while I work out. Since she worked a shift at the hospital last night, she's off this morning. This is evident, being that there's still hot water and the mirror isn't foggy.

I wash my hair with my favorite strawberry scented shampoo and wash my body with the coconut fusion stuff that I've been using for the last couple of years and step out of the shower within five minutes. I take short showers, but if you run me a bubble bath, then I will be in there until the point that my entire body becomes wrinkly. It's just too relaxing.

I step on the scale to weigh myself. My shoulders slump and my face falls with disappointment when 111.5 pounds reads on the screen.

Those two beers last night at Jax's made me gain a pound and a half.

Looks like I will be skipping breakfast today.

My palm wipes the large mirror just a little so that I can see my reflection to brush my teeth and hair. The good thing about this bathroom is that it has two sinks. Even though I love my sister, we still need some separate space. Since my bedroom is to the right, my sink is on the right. I grab my hair tie from the bin, put my hair up in a tight, professional bun, and wrap my towel around my naked body before walking into my room to change.

Eager and nervous, I am ready for duty and ready to begin my watch as I look at myself in the mirror.

The crisp uniform is a sleek black, conveying professionalism. It is clean and neatly pressed and the black boots that shield my feet with the steel toe are highly polished. It's the same uniform my dad wore proudly for years until his watch was abruptly ended.

"Mmm, is that coffee I smell?" Tarra asks sleepily as she drags her feet down the hall.

"Sure is," I say, setting a cup of black coffee on the white granite breakfast bar.

Tarra pulls one of the two black stools out and takes a seat, smiling as she lifts the cup with both hands and closes her eyes while she smells the fresh brew. I lean over the bar, sipping on my coffee with a little creamer in.

Our kitchen is probably my favorite part of the house. Like my bedroom, the entire apartment has gray walls with a white border frame on the upper and lower part. Various pictures litter the rest of the apartment's walls, unlike my plain room. Although, the only pictures that do hang are post-weight loss and Tarra had my approval to mount them to our walls.

The kitchen is no different as it, too, is gray. It has a stainless steel fridge and a matching stove, which works like a gem. I'm no chef, but I can whip up something tasty. From the breakfast bar, you can see our living room with a small white couch and white recliner facing our sixty-five-inch television. We have a wooden dining table that seats four in the small dining room, but since it's just Tarra and me, we mostly eat at the bar.

"Well, the couch has my name on it, so I'm going to go lay down and watch a movie. Have a great day today, Sissy. Love you," Tarra gushes as she shuffles to the couch, wrapping her body in the iridescent colored blanket laying on the back. Her room doesn't have a TV due to her yoga area needing more space, so she plants herself on the couch much more than I do.

I walk up the cool, concrete steps towards the glass doors and observe the large badge symbol that says Phoenix Arizona Police Station. I've been here several times in the past when my dad worked here, surrounded within these brick walls, but that doesn't change how dry my mouth feels and how shaky my hands have now become. I take a deep breath and exhale, open the door, and walk up towards the bulletproof glass.

Bernie, who has been the police clerk here for years, sits at his usual desk with his large iced tea and white shirt. His friendly eyes lift up when he spots me. I watch as his fingers glide over the intercom button, his chewed nails tapping the desk.

"Well, well, well. Good morning sweetheart. Heard I'd be seeing you again soon," he exclaims with a big smile that reveals his front chipped tooth. His eyes take in my appearance. "That uniform suits you well," he adds.

Yup, same, good ol' Bernie. It's good to see some things haven't changed.

I return the smile and bring my hands to my sides, fidgeting with my uniform. "It's great to see you, Bernie," I say through the brushed, stainless steel speak-thru of the bulletproof glass.

He pushes another button and the door buzzes loudly. "Go on in," he says.

I walk to the door on the left and pull the handle towards me. Bernie steps out of his office and gives me a friendly hug. I haven't stepped foot in here since the day I had come here to pick up my father's belongings after he had passed. It's bitter sweet, yet oddly comforting being back here. I feel that at any moment my Dad will come out from behind his desk, a smile on his face.

"Miles is on his way. It's great to see you, young lady. You're all grown up," he chimes.

"Thanks, Bernie," I say and then hear footsteps behind me.

Bernie straightens up and grins. "Good morning Chief, your new hire is in," he advises Miles.

I turn my heel to face Police Chief, Miles Anderson. He looks exactly the same as he had two years ago. He's about thirty-two years old now but looks no older than twenty-five. He has small crows feet that tend to grow every time he smiles, clean-shaven, brown hair, brown eyes, and full lips. Not only did they work closely together, but he was also one of my dad's best friends.

"Hey, sport," he greets, extending his arm out to pull me in for a hug.

I hug him back. A rush of nervousness hits me as I realize how it may look for the newbie to be hugging her boss. That's something I will definitely have to get used to, including trying to focus on anything besides the fact his aftershave reminds me of Dad. Every year for Chritsmas, those two would buy each other the same aftershave and cologne. The exchange was funny at first, then eventually it became a weird tradition between them.

"Shall I show you your office?" He asks.

"Yes, please. It's great to see you, Chief Miles," I say.

I follow him down the walkway and see the familiar interior of the office. The flooring is the same colored tile; white and hunter green squares with beige walls throughout the entire station. As you walk down the walkway, on each side there are rows of gray desks with small black leather seats that roll with the department's activity.

Each desk has six drawers, black computers, a lamp, and wooden name plates at the edge of their desks. Every desk is scattered with paperwork except for the last desk, which is completely cleaned off.

My desk.

As soon as I get closer, sure enough, the nameplate reads, 'Officer Cassandra Porsse.' My arm hairs rise up with a sense of pride and excitement.

In the walkway, there's a small black and silver chair to the side of each desk for guests or people needing to file charges. Behind my desk is the printer and the large whiteboard, with the water dispenser next to it. The bathroom to the side.

"Come into my office, Cassandra. I'd like to go over your schedule and also introduce you to your partner." I nod, setting down my keys and phone onto my desk before following Miles into his secluded office.

Unlike the patrol officers, Miles' office has a door and windows that face his crew, allowing him to keep eyes on all of us at all times. Miles reaches out his hand, gesturing for me to take a seat in one of the guest chairs that face his desk and I comply. I sit in the brown leather chair as I observe him walk around his large black metal desk to take a seat.

Miles' office hasn't changed either. He still has the two gray filing cabinets to the right, several certificates and medals hanging on his wall behind his chair, a lamp, stacks of paperwork, a laptop, his own bathroom and bulletin board, and last but not least, a picture of him and my dad.

My eyes remain focused on the picture before Miles clears his throat, breaking me from my trance. "I miss him too," he says and I nod, biting the inside of my left cheek.

The picture of them threatens tears to build up as I admire my Dad's smiling face. It was a picture of the day they ran a marathon. It was the typical picture most people take after running a marathon. They were completely drenched in sweat, exhausted but triumphant, they sported the white sheet on their chest displaying their black runner number proudly. I waited at the end, anticipated their victory, and took that very picture.

I shift in my seat and rub my palms against my knees. "So, you wanted to talk about my schedule?" I ask, changing the subject.

"Yes. So, since you're new, you will be on the normal twelve-hour shift, two on, two off, and work every other weekend." I nod, remembering the shifts my father used to do. Miles still talks with his hands and I can't help the small smile that forms on my lips as all of the familiarities welcomed me, comforting my uneasy emotions.

"Anyways, you will be put with a partner for your first six months. After the six months is up you will be given your own unit to drive."

I knew about this part as well. We have to do a ride-along for the period of time, to get more hands-on training and to become familiar with the tasks and paperwork.

Paperwork....joy. The average person does not realize the mounds of paperwork that come with police duty.

"Okay, thank you, Miles."

He stands from his seat and I do the same, shaking his hand over his desk. "I'll call you in a bit when I get a hold of your partner. I believe he's out in the field right now. Go make yourself comfortable for right now, get situated. Everyone knows that we're expecting a new officer today and they are all a little rambunctious, being that you're the only woman. They are a great group though, so you'll be fine." He smiles, then opens his palm, revealing a single silver key. "Here's the key to your desk to lock up your drawers."

I take the key and walk towards his door, my hand on the doorknob. "Thank you so much, Chief Miles. It feels good to be here again," I say in a small voice, and he smiles, giving a nod.

I've been at my desk for about an hour and I have been greeted by many new faces and also by some I've known from before. My drawers are filed neatly and I believe the supplies that I need are in order -pencils, pens, highlighters, stapler, evidence bags, my shield, and my handcuffs.

As I go through the system on the computer, getting a feel of the program we use for arrest reports, I hear someone clear their throat. I turn around in my chair, and my hands fold in my lap. My mouth falls slightly open when I see Drew filling a cup of water, dressed in a police uniform, a grin stretched across his face.

"You work here? You're a cop?" The shock inside me spills out in my voice. I would've never pegged him to be an officer, but now I see it. He stands tall and lean in his black uniform, with his duty boots dirty.

He looks good in his uniform.

We share a moment that brings warmth to my cheeks. His eyes scan my entire body and a tingling sensation arises in my toes and I give him a cheeky smile when our eyes meet again.

He smiles, walks over to my desk, and asks, "Yeah, surprised?" I admit by silently nodding and he chuckles. "Me too. I had no idea when Chief Anderson told us that we were getting a new female officer that it would be you. He put your nameplate on the desk this morning," he says, lifting up my nameplate to analyze it before setting it back in place, "But I had no idea it'd be you."

"Yup," I say, popping the 'p' with my lips. "That's me, Officer Porsse."

"Cassandra," Miles calls out, popping his head out of his office. I make eye contact with him and he waves at me to come to his office.

"I'll be back," I whisper to Drew. Shock is still written all over his face as he nods.

"Okay. Hey, are we still on for Saturday?" He asks, hope laced in his voice, and I nod before walking to the Chief's office.

"Cassandra, I'd like you to meet your new partner," Miles says, once I close his office door behind me. A man sits in the guest chair with his back facing me.

He's wearing a police uniform, that even from the back I can tell he fills it out very nicely. I walk closer, my hand stretched outwards, ready to meet my partner. My feet stop dead in my tracks and my entire body freezes as the man rises from his seat and turns around to face me.

The ash brown hair and piercing blue eyes are all too familiar. There was no mistaking that dimpled left cheek, that small scar that I spent countless minutes adoring, toned, veiny arms, and his tall, muscular frame. The only difference is that he looks more muscular, which I wouldn't have guessed possible, and his perfect jawline now hides beneath a dark, short boxed beard.

"Meet your new partner, Officer Cassandra Porsse. Cassandra, this is, Officer Crayvin Smith. Your partner for the next six months."