A university student who's experiment failed comes across a police officer who's hurting from a bad relationship. They make each other smile. He inspires her to scramble to graduate, and she's exactly who he wants for life. He's just got one problem: he's too broken to wait. At least where he lives in a small Mojave Desert town, he's got friends who are going to help..in a way.
Glitches
"... paranoimia paranoimia paranoimia..." sang the radio.
"How am I getting to sleep?" I sang along with it.
Red and blue lights broke up the dark in my world: my twin pin-pricks of headlights on the asphalt were no longer alone. Turning off the radio, I looked up at the rear view mirror. "Rollers," I muttered, "Just my friggin luck."
I pulled off to the side of the road in the middle of nowhere, 'Zzyzx' was the last town I saw. The cop car echoed my motions. Guess it was a state highway cop. Sighing, I rolled down the window as I watched him put his flood light on me and get out.
I barely paid attention to the masculine figure that approached. I just focused on keeping my hands on the wheel where he could see them.
As I looked up into a frowning face with a strong jaw, I blinked. He was wearing corrective glasses, and the half moon style was distinctly nerdy. I looked down at his hands; gloved, large hands grasped my window frame, perfectly proportioned for his height.
"Do you know how fast you were going?" he asked in a smooth tenor voice.
I looked back up at his face and swallowed my first response of 'No, but I am sure you do.' That was a minor miracle. "My car showed 45 mph, officer," I answered.
"Did you see the 'Construction Zone' signs?" he continued quizzing me.
I frowned. "Yes, that's why I was going 45."
"It's 35," he flatly stated.
I looked in surprise at my car. Its AI was supposed to display the input data from the construction announcement.
I sighed. Didn't matter. Just another fucking failure. "I'm sorry, officer. I must have made a mistake."
He looked at me closely. "You okay?"
I was not okay. Everything that I had worked for over 6 years had just imploded. I was not okay at all. I shook my head.
He stared at me a moment while I waited for him to start the litany of asking for my ID. Then he stood up and let go of my window frame. "Looks like we're both having a shitty time. See that light ahead?"
I looked. There was a single light attached to a building about a mile down the road. I nodded.
"It's a diner, El Gastronomico; go and get a coffee."
I blinked at him. He patted the roof of my car a couple of times in dismissal, turned, and started walking back to his vehicle. Fortunately, I had a photographic memory. 'Officer Centalmo,' his badge had read.
"I'll be damned," I muttered. As he walked away, I couldn't stop myself from ogling his form.
When I pulled away, he followed me until I entered the diner's parking lot. Then he presumably continued on his shift. "Be careful out there, officer," I muttered. I should have followed my own advice. I took two steps, and almost twisted my ankle in a hole.
I stepped in to the cozily lit diner to meet a smiling face. "Buenas tardes, senora," the middle aged man greeted, waving me to the bar. I smelled Mexican spices, chilies, and corn as I entered making me immediately relax.
"Buenas tardes, guapo. Me gustarÃa un café por favor," I told him, sighing. An old song played, '...me lleva al cerrito, me vuelve maceta...' as I sat exhausted.
He grinned and winked, while replying, "Un momento, bella." As he handed me the coffee, he placed a brown sugar cookie next to it. "Two credits," he prompted.
That was well below the usual asking price. I put down five. "I just got off a traffic ticket, so here's a little extra for luck."
He nudged my hand with a menu. "After your coffee, stay and order something on the menu. My wife makes an excellent tortilla soup."
I smiled and said, "Okay. Gracias." I pulled out my work notebook and flipped back to the instructions I'd written down. They were all there. How did the sequence get turned around in the instruction file?
An hour later, I was still staring blankly at my notebook, desperately wondering if there was some way to save the situation of collecting the wrong data for my experiment. The empty seat next to me filled, and a vaguely familiar voice said, "Vorrei un caffè, Giuseppe."
I looked up and blinked. It was him. Officer Centalmo. My mind completely stopped for a moment as the sweet restaurateur put a napkin down in front of him. The officer looked at me, and I could tell very little escaped his gaze.
"Well, looks like your vehicle still works, and you've just made yourself at home. Wasn't sure what to expect when I saw you still parked here."
Now that we were in the homey smells of good food and comfortable seating, I was struck with the unique scent that was the officer's own. He smelled good, too. "Sitting here helps me think about misreading directions," I thoughtlessly replied.
He grinned. And it was like the room lit up.
I smiled back.
He blinked. At that moment, Giuseppe bumped his hand with the coffee cup, and he looked briefly startled. "Grazie, amico," he said.
"De nada," Giuseppe chuckled.
"So cheers, Miss?" he held up his coffee.
I lifted mine to lightly tap his, "Hanna Urabi."
"CHP Officer Dan Centalmo at your service, Miss Hanna."
"Unstable scientist at yours, Officer Dan," I replied. "You probably should cuff me before I accidentally destroy the world or something," I muttered ruefully.
"10 mph over the speed limit? You're not changing the history books with that one." He chuckled, "Marrying a cop will land you in cuffs, though."
Heat cascaded through me, making me shiver. Officer Dan was decidedly delicious. The off-color joke was so unexpected, I giggled.
"That's better," he murmured.
I was thoroughly diverted. "Why's your evening been lousy?" I asked, referring to what he'd said earlier.
He looked down at my left hand, shrugged, then lifted it. More heat ran through me from his touch and my cheeks turned pink. I liked his grip on me. He idly massaged my ring finger. "My ex just got married today," he sighed.
"Sorry," I murmured. I looked down at my hand where he held it. I actually didn't feel that sorry at all. Meant I could be attracted to him guilt-free. He started massaging my other fingers, and I was enjoying the simple unadulterated pleasure in the act.
He paused. Holding my hand fast with one of his hands, he sipped his coffee with the other, then resumed messaging with both his hands. "What's got you occupied there?"
I sighed. He studied my face as I scrunched it up in misery. It was hard to talk about.
"Boyfriend?"
I chuckled, diverted again. "No, nothing like that."
His massage moved to the palm of my hand. "Do you have one?"
I shook my head as the heat in my body found a focus, my core. With a simple touch, Officer Dan was lighting me on fire. I couldn't believe it.
"So what is it?" he asked. He lowered my hand, placing it on my knee. Reaching over, he took my other hand. His knee pressed against mine in the process. I didn't move enjoying the contact.
I relaxed under his spell. As he began rubbing the fingers on my other hand, I told him. "Somehow I entered the wrong numbers in my experiment. They're all correct here in my book, but I screwed up the entry. The data collected is all garbage, well, barely usable, unless I want to create a whole new field in physics to get something new out of it. It means I won't graduate on time...if ever."
He blew out his breath. "A lot of people come out here to the Mojave for creative inspiration. Maybe you should stay a while."
I looked up from his hands on mine to his face, startled. Most people treat me like a leper at this point, like I'll judge them from atop the pedestal of my education. He was looking at me hopefully.
"Is there a good place to stay around here?" I was tired. Bone tired. Heart-weary. Even if there was nothing out here except space, there was a big sky and an expansive view. I'd driven through here many times, and enjoyed scanning the plains of California below the high walls of the San Andreas fault.
Giuseppe interrupted at this point, "Amigo, look at the TV." He pointed.
We turned and looked. A reporter in clothes that were being advertised in the corner of the screen talked about how an AI-AI interface started talking in code, causing several automated vehicles to fail and block the highway out of Barstow. The report was brought to us by a delivery company.
"Looks like I'm not getting home," I muttered to myself.