TOO ICY

💎 TWENTY NINE / THE END IS NEAR

"I can't believe Sanchez is still in the wind. They're handing me my ass in these conference calls, y'know?" Captain stressed, taking a full gulp of hot coffee.

Jetson yawned and reached for the keys in his pocket.

"We'll get her captain. There's only so many places you can hide in Philly. I'll see you in the a.m."

"Wait a minute. I need you to stay until Cyrus gets back. He's still collecting statements from witnesses. You know you're the best at analyzing reports."

Jetson clenched the narrow bridge of his nose.
"I can't stay late again tonight, Cap. My girl will kill me."

"You lover boys on my team will be the death of me. A man in the force is married to the force. Didn't I tell you that on your first day?" said Captain.

He roved his eyes over the junky area.

"Sorry, sir, but I'm not marrying a team of grown ass men or Detective Felicia. But if you keep me here one more night, I'm almost sure I'll have no choice."

Captain stuck a toothpick in between his gaped teeth and leaned back in his old desk chair.
"You've been with this one for some time. Kimmy, right?"

Jetson hadn't heard that name in some time. He had been so attached to Isis, so infatuated, even, that his breakup with Kimmy might as well had been nonexistent.

"Actually, no. We broke up some time ago," he chuckled, awkwardly.

"Jesus, Young. I can't keep up. Have a goodnight, kid. You owe me one."

Jetson smirked and turned away, thinking of how he'd rather owe a loan shark than the captain another shift. Work was kicking his ass, and now that he had a reason to be home, it was the only place he wanted to be. He no longer had the passion for the job like he did as a young kid coming out of high school. It wasn't just because of Isis, however.

It was because he had to constantly witness things that didn't settle with his spirit. The situation with Salita was practically the straw that broke the camel's back. He could only imagine the terror that she'd been through; only to lose to it in the end. He wondered if murdering Mr. Marco gave her the peace she needed.

That led into his next thought about Isis. She hadn't said much about Salita's case, or her abuser's death. He figured she would open up when she was ready, if at all.

He was familiar with Isis's ability to push things under the rug. Maybe it was the pregnancy, but since being back in Philly, she was more vulnerable than he ever had the privilege to see. It only made him love her even more; the mere reason his feet shuffled quickly out to the parking lot before his boss needed another favor.

Isis was probably asleep; mouth wide with a river of drool, body clung to the huge pillow she often replaced him with. He wouldn't admit to being jealous of a pillow.

When he finally pulled up his street, approaching his house, Jetson narrowed his eyes at the familiar car parked in his spot. It didn't take much longer for the light bulb to emerge and shatter above his head all within a stretch of seconds. Kimmy.

What the hell was she doing at his place? And why hadn't Isis called him?

Worry churned in his stomach. He quickly parked his car and made his way inside, clutching his firearm, just in case. Muffled voices could be heard as he stepped cautiously through his house, a conspiratorial gaze sweeping across the empty area.

"Babe?" he called out.

"In the kitchen!" she replied almost instantly.
Relieved, he finished his route to the kitchen. Maybe he'd been mistaken; the car could've belonged to a guess of Isis. He led with that new theory as he proceeded with his steps.