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And That Was to Make Her Happy Pt. 2
After I left the hotel room, I still had to go back to work. I was running a little late, and I knew my supervisor would be angry, so I walked back to the police station about seven blocks away at a brisk pace. There were a lot of people moving here and there attending to their mid-day routine. On weekdays, downtown Oklahoma City is full of people, but on the weekends it’s a ghost town.
As I reached the station, I bumped into my supervisor. He was also running late, and couldn’t well dig into me for being late if he was himself. A short balding man, he walked with power. He was a little fat, not much, and wore an unbuttoned brown suit and tie on a blue shirt. His shoes were black and shiny, like his belt where he wore his badge that you could see peaking from his coat every time he stepped with his left leg.
“I hope they don’t fire us for being late, Whitfield,” exclaimed Captain Moore.
Captain Moore, though a tough disciplinarian, was generally a cheerful kind of guy. His bark was much worse than his bite, but still pretty loud. On a good day, like today, he could be the most normal person on the planet.
“I hope not,” I said trying to keep the mood going.
“Let’s sneak in through the back, and they might not see us.”
