Nyla Bridges has dedicated her entire life to becoming the best FBI agent the agency has seen. Working twice as hard because she's a woman... a black woman... to show that she is just as capable, if not more, than her predominantly white, male colle...
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My mouth was wide open, vibrations of high pitched mirth flowing into the hallway. "This is funny to you," Donovan smirked. I looked over his HVAC uniform, my cheeks puffed and my lips sealed tightly. "Go ahead and get you one more in." With his permission, a belly laugh roared. "Who are you supposed to be right now," I stepped aside, allowing him to enter into the temporary apartment. He pulled a power drill from his belt, loud humming bouncing off of the walls, "the maintenance man. I handle all of the surveillance installation for sting operations of this matter."
"Oh, wow. I didn't know that." He shrugged, "I guess this is the promotion I get for having one of the best records in narcotics." He sat the leather duffel bag onto the couch, unzipping it and removing various devices. "Do you feel some type of way about me being asked to take the case, instead of you?" He whipped his head around, kissing his teeth, "girl, what? Of course not. Don't get me wrong, I'm damn good at what I do, but it's different with you. How easy it is for you—it's almost like this is what you were destined to be."
Flushed, I crossed my ankles and leaned against the living room wall while tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, "thank you." Smiling, he carried the equipment over to the fireplace. Dismantling the clock, he placed a dot size audio recorder onto the back of it and hung the clock back in place. With the apartment fully bugged, with the exception of the bedroom and bathroom, Donovan sauntered over with a small remote, "this controls all of the devices. To turn on the transmitters, you hold down the power button until you feel three vibrations, signaling it's on. You do the same to turn them off, only it'll vibrate twice."
"So my place is officially a booby trap?" He chuckled, "with the best equipment tax payer dollars can buy." I nodded, "cool." Digging his hands deep inside of his pockets, his head rotated as he eyed the room, "this set up is a lot better than my placement while undercover. They had a nigga living in a janky ass studio." I laughed, "that's because I told chief that I wouldn't be at my best without a comfortable dwelling."
"You got it like that?" I tilted my head and lowered my lids, "maybe, just a little." Cackling, he nodded, "what are your plans for the evening?"I shook and turned my lips down, "nothing special. I'll probably order a pizza and curl up on the couch with a movie."
"Or, you could have dinner with me. I know a spot that's tucked away. I'd love to have your company." My mouth was slow to move. The last date I'd gone on was twenty seven months ago, and that night changed my world forever. "That was stupid of me. I'm so-" I shook my head, "don't apologize. Dinner sounds great." A smile pricked his lips, "is seven thirty okay?" Mimicking his expression, I nodded, "that's perfect."
I followed Donovan out and headed to my car. Buckled in, I started the ignition and cruised down the busy avenue. Pulling into the gas station, I shifted the gear and stepped out. The dinging of the bell sounded off, my feet shuffling to the snack aisle. Grabbing a bag of hot fries and a sprite, I ambled to the counter. "Three dollars and six cents," the clerk informed. With my items paid for, I carried my bag to the car and placed it onto the passenger seat.
