riptide_asylum (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
riptide_asylum) wrote2011-03-24 07:45 pm
riptide_asylum) wrote2011-03-24 07:45 pm
Entry tags:
"Some Kind of Trouble - Part 1" (Other, 1986)
Title: Some Kind of Trouble
Rating: PG
Summary: Cody wants a girlfriend. But it takes a tough case to bring home to him that what he needs is something else entirely...
Security at the local high school senior prom wasn't exactly Cody's idea of a good time, and it certainly wasn't the type of case the Riptide Detective Agency usually undertook. But it paid their standard rate, so when Jeff Angus, the principal and a friend of Murray's, had asked them to do it, Cody and Nick had looked at each other, shrugged, and gone along with Murray's excited acceptance of the job.
So far, Nick had broken up two incipient brawls and Cody had confiscated a bottle of unlabeled spirit that smelled more like paint stripper than anything meant to be swallowed, two packs of cigarettes, and consoled a tearful young girl with a broken heel on her strappy silver shoes. His first suggestion of breaking the other heel off too had only produced more tears, so he'd hurriedly pulled out one of Murray's cell phones--shaped, coincidentally, like a shoe--and let the teenager call her mom.
After the girl's mother had arrived with another pair of shoes, Cody walked her back into the hall and left her abruptly with the first group of kids he saw. She'd been clinging to his arm far more affectionately than he was comfortable with, and the last thing he needed was a sixteen year old with a crush on him.
He scanned the room and saw Murray guarding the refreshment table against the hazards of spiked punch. There was no sign of Nick, and Cody started back the way he'd come, toward the front doors.
"I don't believe escorting the students is in your brief, Mr Allen." Even over the band, the cool voice carried easily.
Cody jumped and turned. He found himself staring at a willowy brunette in a low-cut green dress. She was obviously not a student, and she was regarding him appraisingly. He blushed. "Uh--the young lady broke a heel--her mother was just here--"
"Naturally." The woman smiled, showing small white teeth. Cody swallowed hard. "Tell me, Mr Allen--Cody--do you dance?"
"Uh--yes--no--that is, I'm security, ma'am." Cody shifted uneasily, glancing back toward the door. Then he looked back at the woman. She was pretty--he'd nearly call her beautiful--and there was something in her smile that made his head spin. He wondered if he should ask her out. His heart pounded at the thought.
"Yes, I know you're security." She moved a little closer. Cody could smell her perfume, heady and sweet. He shook his head to clear it. "You have no idea of the relief it gives me to know you're--" she ran her tongue over her lips "--on the job."
Cody gulped. Blood rose in his cheeks and he shifted awkwardly, pants suddenly too tight. He looked away, glancing automatically at the exit--and saw Nick standing just inside the door, waving frantically. He froze.
"Uh--I have to go--" Cody waved to let Nick know he was responding, then glanced back at the woman. "What's your name?" he blurted.
"Melinda." She smiled seductively. "Hurry back, won't you?"
Cody strode around the edge of the dancefloor, heart pounding. Nick's timing was terrible. Sure, girls hit on him from time to time, but a classy lady like Melinda--she was something else.
Nick was waiting impatiently by the double doors to the foyer. "If I knew you had a thing for school teachers I'd'a signed you on as a janitor. Willya keep your mind on the job, guy?"
"Aw, c'mon, Nick, she was hot. And if you called me over here for nothing, just when I was about to get her number--"
"What, you didn't get her number yet? Cody, I gotta give you some tips, man. Hell, even Murray woulda made it past first base by now."
"Maybe I didn't wanna rush it." Cody gave Nick a dirty look. "C'mon, pal, what's up? Don't tell me you dragged me over here just because you saw I was making time with a pretty woman?"
Nick sobered immediately. "You know what, I wish I did." He dropped a hand on Cody's shoulder and steered him out into the hall foyer, lowering his voice as the music receded behind them. "There's something going on in the parking lot. A couple of guys hanging around, maybe scoping cars to boost."
"Students?" Cody was alert in an instant, responding to the tension he felt in his partner.
"Nah. Limo service drivers." Nick shrugged at Cody's uncomprehending look. "I guess, rich people use limo services. If you were a high-end car thief, there's worse ways of finding targets."
"I guess." Cody frowned. "So do we call the cops?"
"There's no law against walking in a parking lot. Cops can't do anything unless they take a car. But if we have the licence plate and direction--"
Cody nodded, grabbing his partner's elbow and giving a quick squeeze. "Good thinking, buddy. Let's go."
Outside, they slipped into the shadows. Nick led the way across the lot, silently indicating three black limousines standing in a row near the entrance. All bore a distinctive silver flower logo on their doors, underlined, in tasteful flowing script, with the words Stan's Car Service.
"Stan's, huh? Who's Stan?"
"No idea. But once the Boz warms up his computer, I'm figuring ol' Stan's in for a nasty surprise." Nick's teeth gleamed white as he grinned back at Cody.
Several rows over, Cody saw a dark figure moving between the parked vehicles. He nudged Nick's shoulder and Nick dropped to a crouch, easing his way toward the suspect. Cody followed, ghosting in Nick's wake, fingers of one hand lightly touching Nick's hip. The slightest change of Nick's weight told Cody when to stop, when to turn. When to draw his gun.
Two heavyset men were peering in the windows of a white Lexus coupe. Both wore gloves. Cody tapped Nick's hand, and Nick nodded and drew his gun.
Taking his own weapon in hand, Cody held up one finger. They had to wait for the men to make an attempt to steal the car, otherwise the cops couldn't hold them. Nick nodded his understanding, and as Cody gestured, slipped around to the other side of the car.
Cody held his position, waiting. He could hear nothing from Nick, and the other men were speaking too low to be overheard.
Suddenly, there was a shout from the direction of the gym. "Who's that? Guys--Nick, Cody! He's getting away!"
The two men spun away from the car, looking around wildly. Cody jumped to his feet in time to see Murray grappling with a man three times his size, just in front of the gym door. He heard Nick roar in anger, and spun around to see one of the car thieves coming at him full tilt.
He braced himself for the shock of impact, going down hard and throwing a punch as he hit the ground. He heard the air go out of his assailant with a soft ‘oof', and a few feet away he heard the sounds of a scuffle as Nick tackled the second man. Then Cody's attacker grabbed him by the shirt and threw him back against a parked car.
Cody struggled to breathe. The guy was built like a tank, but maybe he was slow. He came off the ground heavily, eyes fixed on Cody, and Cody swung wildly at his head. If he could make a quick knock-out--
The thug wasn't slow. His punch came at Cody with all the force of an express train, knocking Cody's swing aside and landing on Cody's shoulder. Pain shot down Cody's arm, and he clinched with his assailant, trying for a knee to the groin. But a hard slam to the gut knocked Cody back against the car, barely able to breathe, and then something like a sledgehammer hit him under the jaw.
"That's it, Cody, that's it." A feminine voice was cooing in Cody's ear. "Wake up, Cody."
Cody woke instantly, muscles clenched ready to fight. He was still breathing and a lot of him hurt, but nothing that oughtta stop him from fighting. Nothing except the field-nurse holding him down. He wrenched himself out of her grip, rolling and coming up on one elbow in a single movement, scanning the terrain. First he had to find Nick, then he had to get them both undercover before the VC--
The woman shrieked and scuttled backward. Cody blinked. She wasn't a field-nurse: she was dressed in a green frock, with makeup and her hair piled up on her head. And instead of jungle green, he was looking at parked cars, the smell of asphalt and petrol in his nostrils instead of cordite and smoke and rot.
He closed his eyes, caught between the past and present, momentarily unable to determine which was the reality, which the nightmare.
An instant later, another hand landed on his arm. Cody recognized the touch in the moment he tensed to fight, and suddenly the world righted itself. He was Cody Allen, private detective, performing security for a high school prom in the safe sane world of 1984.
Slowly he opened his eyes. Nick was looking back at him, holding his arm, eyes anxious. Cody smiled and sat up. "Did they get away?" he asked softly, with barely a hint of tremor in his voice.
"Yeah." The anxiety faded from Nick's eyes and he sat back on his heels. He didn't let go of Cody's arm. "But they didn't get the car. Seems like Murray surprised their lookout."
"Huh." Cody drew his feet underneath him, and Nick helped him up. They stood together, leaning into one another, and Cody surveyed the situation: a police car, light bar flashing, stationary with its doors open in front of the gym; Murray, gesticulating wildly at a uniformed officer, and Lieutenant Quinlan striding across the parking lot toward them.
"Cody!" The woman in green reappeared at Cody's elbow. "Cody, you saved my car! Did that dreadful man hurt you?"
Cody stared blankly. "Your car?"
"I think Miss Cane means that the Lexus is hers," Nick said gently. He laid an arm across Cody's shoulders. "Quinlan wants our statements, man. You up to it? D'you remember what happened all right?"
"Uh--yeah." Cody shook his head to clear it. He remembered everything. Even the woman in green was coming back to him. "Melinda. You're Melinda, right?"
"That's right. Melinda Cane, deputy principal."
"Thank you, teach. If you wouldn't mind going back to the gymnasium, one of my officers will take your statement. I need to speak to these bozos." Quinlan stopped in front of them, hands on hips, staring at Melinda until she turned on her heel and walked away. Then Quinlan rounded on Nick and Cody. "The volleyball team dropped the ball, huh?" He snorted. "Don't suppose you happened to get a look at them between serves?"
***
Cody's shoulder throbbed like fire, there was a sizable bruise forming on his jaw, and his back ached unrelentingly. The fluorescent lights of the squadroom were giving him a headache, and the too-dry piped air made his eyes sting.
He and Nick had pored over the mugshot book while Murray and Wes, the department computer expert, had searched interstate records for leads to high-end car theft rings. They'd come up with a big fat zero, and Cody stared at the weak, swirling coffee in his polystyrene cup while he listened to his partners bicker.
"The only way is to do an aerial sweep. Gimme the stats on the missing cars and I'll be able to spot ‘em from the air. Simple." Nick snapped his fingers.
Cody crumbled the edge of the cup between his fingers. It was already two am. He knew Nick could fly on a few hours sleep--hell, on no sleep--but he also knew neither of them were getting any younger.
"There are twelve cars missing since Sunday! That's a big haul, Nick. For a gang as organized as that, you have to bet the vehicles are under cover."
"Not all twelve fit the profile." Quinlan's sarcastic tones quelled the computer expert's excitement. "But they're definitely organized. Wish I could say the same about you three."
"If I'd had the Mimi, I could've followed those bums," Nick grumbled.
"I have the names of the drivers from the limo service. That's somewhere to start." Murray rubbed his hands. "Isn't this great, guys?"
"I wouldn't call a car theft ring great, Boz," Cody said tiredly, snapping off another piece of spongy polystyrene.
Quinlan stood up. "Me neither."
Cody stood too, putting his cup down on the desk. Half of the cup's rim was missing, torn into jagged peaks, and specks of polystyrene littered the floor under his chair. He scuffed his shoe over the evidence.
Nick came up close behind Cody. His hip nudged Cody's and his hand rested lightly between Cody's shoulderblades, but he spoke to Quinlan. "You'll keep us posted?"
"For what good it'll do." Quinlan smirked.
Cody turned and headed for the door, fighting the absurdly exposed feeling that had come over him when Nick's hand had disappeared from his back. Rationally he knew it was reaction to the fight and exhaustion kicking in, but it took all his concentration to make it across the busy squadroom and out into the corridor.
As they exited the building, away from prying eyes, Cody swung back, bumping hard into Nick in his haste to get close to him. His breath came loud and ragged in his own ears.
Nick staggered a little but said nothing. His arm went round Cody, supporting, steering, anchoring him. Cody stumbled once then recovered, moving in step with Nick, his breathing steadying as they crossed the parking lot toward the Jimmy.
"We could stake out the country club parking lot. I could rig up a camera surveillance system. Or wait, maybe the yacht club would be better. What do you think, guys?"
Nick made some reply that Cody didn't catch. His head hurt worse and there was roaring in his ears. He stopped beside the truck, swaying a little, hoping that Nick wouldn't let go, and fumbled in his pocket for the keys.
"Uh-uh, big guy." Nick took them out of his hand. "I'm driving. C'mon, get in."
Cody found himself in the passenger seat with Murray clucking solicitously over him from the rear. "I guess you took a harder hit than we thought, huh, Cody? Nick, d'you think we ought to take him to the hospital?"
Nick started the Jimmy and patted Murray's arm. "No, I just think we all need a good night's sleep, you know? I'm bushed." The truck rolled forward and Cody closed his eyes.
***
The vehicle lurched to a stop and Cody froze, listening for machine gun fire or worse, the tearing shrieks of death. But all he heard was a grunt in the back talking too loud, and Nick carelessly jangling the keys.
He hissed through his teeth in warning. Patrol must be over, but even in camp they weren't safe—he'd lost count of the number of times Pitbull'd drummed that in their heads.
Nick touched his shoulder in understanding and barked something at the talkative soldier. The truck rocked as everyone piled out and Cody knew he should follow. But his eyes wouldn't open, his feet wouldn't move. He was too tired to be afraid, until Nick's hand disappeared from his arm.
Then fear came. Cold in his belly, dark and dense, holding him in his seat forever. The jungle was cold tonight, and the wind through the trees sounded like waves on a beach. Cody tasted the salt of his own tears. Please don't leave me.
A chain rattled close by and Cody tensed for the explosion. But instead the truck rocked and squeaked as his door was opened and then Nick's arm eased around his shoulders.
Cody gasped air, eyes flying open. Nick drew him close, holding him steady without speaking as Cody took in the rubber dash of a civilian truck, the orange glow of lights, the soft slow chop of dark water. He felt himself shaking.
It felt like seconds, but Cody had an idea that hours might have passed by the time Nick gently guided him out of the truck. His legs barely held him up and halfway down the companionway he went to his knees.
Nick carried him the rest of the way.
***
Cody woke in the pale light of dawn. He was in Nick's bunk, not his own, crowded against the wall. Nick lay beside him, one arm slung across Cody's ribcage, his knee between Cody's. He was sleeping lightly and as Cody moved, his eyes flicked open.
"You okay?"
"Mmm." Cody sighed and moved incrementally closer to Nick. It wasn't the first time they'd woken up in the same bunk. His memory of the night before was hazy, but he remembered getting slugged. His shoulder twinged and he winced.
Nick rolled on his back and shifted his grip, gently inviting Cody in. Cody nestled close thankfully, curling into Nick's side and breathing a sigh of relief as Nick held him.
"Go back to sleep, baby," Nick whispered, rubbing Cody's hurt shoulder with one hand. "I got you. We're okay. We're okay, buddy. We're okay."
The Riptide's cabin faded into a hundred jungle bivouacs, the tiny gray-walled bedroom on base, the cramped, uncomfortable holds of a score of choppers. They could be in any of those places, or none of them, but wherever they were, they were okay. Nick said so. Cody closed his eyes and rested his head on Nick's shoulder. "I'll take next watch," he muttered.
"Sure you will, big guy." Nick stroked the back of his neck. "Sure you will."
The next time Cody woke up, he was alone. Sun streamed through the window on the opposite wall--above his bunk--and he sat up, blinking in confusion. He was in Nick's bunk. His shoulder throbbed, deep and heavy, and he could feel bruises starting on his ribs. He felt hot and stiff, and the headache from the night before pressed threateningly behind his eyes.
He laid a hand flat on the wood panelled walls, listening to the soft slap of the sea against the hull. It was real; it, and the Riptide, the prom job and the car thieves. He closed his eyes, but that didn't hide the long ago jungle that threatened to engulf the present. Cody folded in on himself, starting to shake.
"Cody! Cody, take it easy, man, take it easy." Nick's voice was a lifeline and Cody clung to it with everything he had, somehow forcing his eyes open. Then Nick had hold of him, pulling him out of the past, out of the jungle and into the sturdy built-in bunk of the Riptide.
Cody landed, gasping, staring at the sick knowledge in Nick's eyes. The past was still as raw and close for him as it was for Cody. Cody groped for Nick's hand. "Don't leave me there, buddy," he said in a harsh whisper.
"Never," Nick said simply and sat down on the bunk at Cody's side. "You feel like some breakfast yet?"
"Dunno." Cody rolled his shoulders slowly and shot a sideways look at Nick. "I'm still kinda shook up."
Nick gave him an appraising look. They were neither of them inclined to admit weakness, even to each other. At least not out loud. "Murray wants us to stake out the yacht club tonight. And after school, we got to meet with Miss Cane. I figure you don't wanna miss that."
Cody grimaced. "If I remember right, I started out by getting K.Oed at her feet, then nearly swung on her when I woke up. Maybe I better take a raincheck."
"Chicks love flawed heroes." Nick's arm slid around Cody's shoulders, solid and comforting. "But I'm gonna tell Murray to save the yacht club for next week. Meantime," he looked at his watch, "I thought maybe you felt like a swim."
"A swim?"
"Yeah. Loosen your shoulder up."
"You know what, Dr. Ryder, that's not bad." Cody grinned. "As long as you're not worried about swimming with a flawed hero, that is. What if I drown you in the final act?"
Nick leaned in close, holding Cody's eyes. "Trust me, baby. We're nowhere near the curtain call on this one. C'mon."
The hot sun and the sparkling ocean chased away the lingering remnants of Cody's headache. Instead of jungle green and running soldiers he saw bikinied babes lurking near the dunes, patterned towels covering nothing more sinister than soft gold sand.
He was sore from the fight, and his ribs were mottled with new bruises. But as he put effort in to swimming faster than Nick, he felt his body start to respond, the stiffness and aches leaving his muscles. He won the race to the end of the beach and rolled contentedly upright, treading water and grinning as Nick surfaced beside him.
"Always said I could take you with one arm tied behind my back."
Nick snorted. "I gave you a head start, old man."
"You sure did." Cody smirked. Nick had been eyeing two pretty girls splashing in the shallows when Cody had shouted the signal for their race. "Didya swallow any water with your tongue hanging out like that?"
"Nope." Nick grinned. "But I got the blonde's number. Watch and learn, buddy. Watch and learn." With a heave of his shoulders, he disappeared back into the waves, stroking hard the way they had come.
"Nick! dammit, Nick--!" Cody started in pursuit, throwing everything he had into the chase. There was no way Nick had had time to speak to the women. There was no way he'd gotten their number. Cody spluttered, nearly swallowing water himself as he mistimed a breath. "Nick!"
Nick tossed him a towel as he jogged out of the water. Cody snatched it out of the air and slung it across his shoulders. "You didn't get anyone's number. You're--"
"Sure I did." Nick pointed. The two girls he had been appreciating earlier were halfway up the beach, heading for a gold dune buggy. Black letters on the vehicle's minimal body proclaimed "Cookie's Cookouts" with a local number embellished in flowing script underneath.
"That's cheating. That doesn't count."
"Sure it does." Nick's easy grin lit up his face. "That makes three for me this week, and none for you. Count ‘em, buddy."
"No way. If Cookie over there counts, Melinda sure as hell counts. I can find the number of the school in the directory and--"
"Three-One, then." Nick slung his arm around Cody's shoulders. "But I tell you what, big guy," he said, lowering his voice confidingly. "Cookie's the one for my money. After all, we already know she looks hot in a bikini. And she has good-lookin' friends."
"Melinda's got a good figure," Cody protested. "And she can dance, she said."
"Uh-huh. You have fun with that." Nick chuckled and started up the beach, arm still around Cody. The two girls got in their beach buggy and shot off along the sand with a roar. Nick looked after them and nodded. "She looked high maintenance to me. And one more thing. Mine can cook."
Cody stared at him, outraged, then shoved, meaning to bring Nick down in the sand. But Nick was too quick for him, diving away and scrambling up the beach, laughing. Cody gave chase.
They arrived back at the Riptide sandy and exhausted, still giggling, arms across each others' shoulders. Cody took a hot shower and emerged to find nothing remained of the pain from the hits he'd taken but a lingering heaviness in his upper body. He donned his white pants, and was holding up his lemon and peach polo shirts, trying to decide which one to wear, when Nick came back from the bathroom, toweling his hair.
He dropped his towel when he saw Cody and took the polos out of his hands. "Nah, wear a sweater, man. You'll stiffen up if you get cold, you know?"
"Oh." Cody nodded slowly, realizing Nick was right. "I guess, but I feel great now."
"An' that's how you want to keep it." Nick bent and rummaged in their closet, bare ass bobbing, and Cody looked away hurriedly. Melinda. Melinda's tits in the green clingy dress.
Nick tossed a pair of his own jeans to the bed, followed by his light blue shirt. Then he held up one of Cody's light sweaters, the white one patterned with narrow colored stripes.
Cody shrugged. "I guess. Or the diamond one."
"I like this one." Nick held it out. "And I'm three up, so that makes me the expert, huh?"
"I dont think it makes you an expert on my sweaters," Cody retorted, feeling his color rise. Nick always did better with girls--didn't get tongue tied, always had a line. Didn't seem to care if the chick didn't go for it, just flashed that blinding smile at the next in line. And there was always a next.
Cody sighed. Girls liked him--he knew that--he just had to work on his conversation. Keep it flowing, don't panic, don't look at Nick's ass. If he got those three things down, he'd do just great. He took the sweater from Nick and pulled it on.
"There you go." Nick pulled on his jeans and picked up his shirt. "You look great."
Cody swallowed hard. "So do you." Without waiting for a response, he ran upstairs to the salon.
***
In the cold light of day, Melinda didn't seem quite as alluring as she had in her green evening dress. But her pink sweater highlighted perky, tight breasts, her dark curls bounced on her shoulders, and the sway of her hips belied her sensible straight teacher's skirt.
She slid a check across the desk to Cody, barely glancing at Nick and Murray sitting on either side of him. "We're very glad we hired you," she purred. "We have another event coming up, a celebration of our football team's successful season, and I'd like to hire you again."
"Boss! I've got some excellent ideas for improving communication and visibility--"
"I'm sorry." Melinda Cane interrupted Murray. "I wasn't clear. It wasn't your agency I'd like to hire for that occasion." She sat back in her chair, smiling slightly. "It was you, Mr Allen."
"Me?" Cody exclaimed, as Nick and Murray chorused "Cody?"
"Yes, you. I was most impressed with the way you handled yourself last night. Not that your colleagues weren't also effective, but the next event is smaller. I feel one man is all I'll need. Of course, I'd expect to pay less."
"Now wait a minute. This isn't how we work, Miss Cane. You hire the agency at the same rate, and you get the cover you need. And even for a small function, it would be hard for one man--"
Cody raised a hand, cutting Nick off in mid-stride. "Nick's right, that's how we usually work. But maybe this once we could make an exception?"
Nick gave him a fulminating glare. "Listen, Miss Cane. My partner here would really like to help you out, and so would I. But we don't work without backup. I'm sorry, but that's the way it is."
Cody opened his mouth to argue, but Murray spoke first. "Nick's right," he said gravely. "Last night should have been a simple job, and yet we nearly ended up in the ER."
Melinda sighed. "Well, I'm disappointed, but I understand your position." She smiled and stood up. "I'll be in touch with the details. Thank you for your time, gentlemen."
As they headed out the door, Melinda took Cody's arm, holding him back. Cody hesitated, looking from the woman to his partners' retreating backs.
"I don't care whether you bring your friends to this pep rally or not," she purred. "But I thought you might like to get together tonight."
Cody blushed. "Really?"
Melinda bumped her breasts against his arm. "Really. And my plans don't include Mr Ryder and Mr Bozinsky. Do you think you can slip your leash in time to pick me up at seven?"
"My--my leash? What do you mean?"
Melinda looked amused. "Will Mr Ryder insist on providing you with backup?"
"That wasn't what Nick meant. Security can be more dangerous than it looks, Melinda. If you don't have backup, things can go wrong real fast--"
"They sure can." Melinda was staring, lips pursed, at Nick, who was striding rapidly back down the corridor toward them. Slowly she turned, pressed against Cody, and kissed him full on the mouth.
Cody gasped, cock filling uncomfortably in his tight pants. Then Melinda stepped back as Nick came to a stop in front of them.
"Are you done here?" Nick asked shortly.
Melinda gave a low chuckle. "Have a nice walk," she said softly, and went back inside her office. The door clicked shut.
"What was that about?" Nick gave the door an unfriendly stare.
Cody blushed a little and turned away. "Nothing." He started walking.
Nick fell in step with him. A few strides later, he dropped his hand between Cody's shoulderblades. It felt great, and Cody felt the tension Melinda had started in him unwinding--then suddenly realized she might still be watching them. He pulled away.
Nick gave him a hurt look, then stuffed his hands in his pockets. "So you're taking her out, huh?"
"I didn't say that."
"You didn't have to." Nick sighed. "Listen, I just... I wish you'd stick with Tammy, man. She's cute, she likes you, and she doesn't drive a Lexus. Or teach school."
"And she's ten years younger than me. This one time, Nick, can you just--not?" Cody stopped, staring stormily at his friend.
Nick stared at him, a curious mixture of sorrow and anger in his eyes. Then he shrugged. "Nothing to do with me anyhow, big guy." He turned on his heel and marched off toward Murray and the Jimmy without looking back.
Part Two
Rating: PG
Summary: Cody wants a girlfriend. But it takes a tough case to bring home to him that what he needs is something else entirely...
... if this is what we’ve got
then what we’ve got is gold ...
Security at the local high school senior prom wasn't exactly Cody's idea of a good time, and it certainly wasn't the type of case the Riptide Detective Agency usually undertook. But it paid their standard rate, so when Jeff Angus, the principal and a friend of Murray's, had asked them to do it, Cody and Nick had looked at each other, shrugged, and gone along with Murray's excited acceptance of the job.
So far, Nick had broken up two incipient brawls and Cody had confiscated a bottle of unlabeled spirit that smelled more like paint stripper than anything meant to be swallowed, two packs of cigarettes, and consoled a tearful young girl with a broken heel on her strappy silver shoes. His first suggestion of breaking the other heel off too had only produced more tears, so he'd hurriedly pulled out one of Murray's cell phones--shaped, coincidentally, like a shoe--and let the teenager call her mom.
After the girl's mother had arrived with another pair of shoes, Cody walked her back into the hall and left her abruptly with the first group of kids he saw. She'd been clinging to his arm far more affectionately than he was comfortable with, and the last thing he needed was a sixteen year old with a crush on him.
He scanned the room and saw Murray guarding the refreshment table against the hazards of spiked punch. There was no sign of Nick, and Cody started back the way he'd come, toward the front doors.
"I don't believe escorting the students is in your brief, Mr Allen." Even over the band, the cool voice carried easily.
Cody jumped and turned. He found himself staring at a willowy brunette in a low-cut green dress. She was obviously not a student, and she was regarding him appraisingly. He blushed. "Uh--the young lady broke a heel--her mother was just here--"
"Naturally." The woman smiled, showing small white teeth. Cody swallowed hard. "Tell me, Mr Allen--Cody--do you dance?"
"Uh--yes--no--that is, I'm security, ma'am." Cody shifted uneasily, glancing back toward the door. Then he looked back at the woman. She was pretty--he'd nearly call her beautiful--and there was something in her smile that made his head spin. He wondered if he should ask her out. His heart pounded at the thought.
"Yes, I know you're security." She moved a little closer. Cody could smell her perfume, heady and sweet. He shook his head to clear it. "You have no idea of the relief it gives me to know you're--" she ran her tongue over her lips "--on the job."
Cody gulped. Blood rose in his cheeks and he shifted awkwardly, pants suddenly too tight. He looked away, glancing automatically at the exit--and saw Nick standing just inside the door, waving frantically. He froze.
"Uh--I have to go--" Cody waved to let Nick know he was responding, then glanced back at the woman. "What's your name?" he blurted.
"Melinda." She smiled seductively. "Hurry back, won't you?"
Cody strode around the edge of the dancefloor, heart pounding. Nick's timing was terrible. Sure, girls hit on him from time to time, but a classy lady like Melinda--she was something else.
Nick was waiting impatiently by the double doors to the foyer. "If I knew you had a thing for school teachers I'd'a signed you on as a janitor. Willya keep your mind on the job, guy?"
"Aw, c'mon, Nick, she was hot. And if you called me over here for nothing, just when I was about to get her number--"
"What, you didn't get her number yet? Cody, I gotta give you some tips, man. Hell, even Murray woulda made it past first base by now."
"Maybe I didn't wanna rush it." Cody gave Nick a dirty look. "C'mon, pal, what's up? Don't tell me you dragged me over here just because you saw I was making time with a pretty woman?"
Nick sobered immediately. "You know what, I wish I did." He dropped a hand on Cody's shoulder and steered him out into the hall foyer, lowering his voice as the music receded behind them. "There's something going on in the parking lot. A couple of guys hanging around, maybe scoping cars to boost."
"Students?" Cody was alert in an instant, responding to the tension he felt in his partner.
"Nah. Limo service drivers." Nick shrugged at Cody's uncomprehending look. "I guess, rich people use limo services. If you were a high-end car thief, there's worse ways of finding targets."
"I guess." Cody frowned. "So do we call the cops?"
"There's no law against walking in a parking lot. Cops can't do anything unless they take a car. But if we have the licence plate and direction--"
Cody nodded, grabbing his partner's elbow and giving a quick squeeze. "Good thinking, buddy. Let's go."
Outside, they slipped into the shadows. Nick led the way across the lot, silently indicating three black limousines standing in a row near the entrance. All bore a distinctive silver flower logo on their doors, underlined, in tasteful flowing script, with the words Stan's Car Service.
"Stan's, huh? Who's Stan?"
"No idea. But once the Boz warms up his computer, I'm figuring ol' Stan's in for a nasty surprise." Nick's teeth gleamed white as he grinned back at Cody.
Several rows over, Cody saw a dark figure moving between the parked vehicles. He nudged Nick's shoulder and Nick dropped to a crouch, easing his way toward the suspect. Cody followed, ghosting in Nick's wake, fingers of one hand lightly touching Nick's hip. The slightest change of Nick's weight told Cody when to stop, when to turn. When to draw his gun.
Two heavyset men were peering in the windows of a white Lexus coupe. Both wore gloves. Cody tapped Nick's hand, and Nick nodded and drew his gun.
Taking his own weapon in hand, Cody held up one finger. They had to wait for the men to make an attempt to steal the car, otherwise the cops couldn't hold them. Nick nodded his understanding, and as Cody gestured, slipped around to the other side of the car.
Cody held his position, waiting. He could hear nothing from Nick, and the other men were speaking too low to be overheard.
Suddenly, there was a shout from the direction of the gym. "Who's that? Guys--Nick, Cody! He's getting away!"
The two men spun away from the car, looking around wildly. Cody jumped to his feet in time to see Murray grappling with a man three times his size, just in front of the gym door. He heard Nick roar in anger, and spun around to see one of the car thieves coming at him full tilt.
He braced himself for the shock of impact, going down hard and throwing a punch as he hit the ground. He heard the air go out of his assailant with a soft ‘oof', and a few feet away he heard the sounds of a scuffle as Nick tackled the second man. Then Cody's attacker grabbed him by the shirt and threw him back against a parked car.
Cody struggled to breathe. The guy was built like a tank, but maybe he was slow. He came off the ground heavily, eyes fixed on Cody, and Cody swung wildly at his head. If he could make a quick knock-out--
The thug wasn't slow. His punch came at Cody with all the force of an express train, knocking Cody's swing aside and landing on Cody's shoulder. Pain shot down Cody's arm, and he clinched with his assailant, trying for a knee to the groin. But a hard slam to the gut knocked Cody back against the car, barely able to breathe, and then something like a sledgehammer hit him under the jaw.
"That's it, Cody, that's it." A feminine voice was cooing in Cody's ear. "Wake up, Cody."
Cody woke instantly, muscles clenched ready to fight. He was still breathing and a lot of him hurt, but nothing that oughtta stop him from fighting. Nothing except the field-nurse holding him down. He wrenched himself out of her grip, rolling and coming up on one elbow in a single movement, scanning the terrain. First he had to find Nick, then he had to get them both undercover before the VC--
The woman shrieked and scuttled backward. Cody blinked. She wasn't a field-nurse: she was dressed in a green frock, with makeup and her hair piled up on her head. And instead of jungle green, he was looking at parked cars, the smell of asphalt and petrol in his nostrils instead of cordite and smoke and rot.
He closed his eyes, caught between the past and present, momentarily unable to determine which was the reality, which the nightmare.
An instant later, another hand landed on his arm. Cody recognized the touch in the moment he tensed to fight, and suddenly the world righted itself. He was Cody Allen, private detective, performing security for a high school prom in the safe sane world of 1984.
Slowly he opened his eyes. Nick was looking back at him, holding his arm, eyes anxious. Cody smiled and sat up. "Did they get away?" he asked softly, with barely a hint of tremor in his voice.
"Yeah." The anxiety faded from Nick's eyes and he sat back on his heels. He didn't let go of Cody's arm. "But they didn't get the car. Seems like Murray surprised their lookout."
"Huh." Cody drew his feet underneath him, and Nick helped him up. They stood together, leaning into one another, and Cody surveyed the situation: a police car, light bar flashing, stationary with its doors open in front of the gym; Murray, gesticulating wildly at a uniformed officer, and Lieutenant Quinlan striding across the parking lot toward them.
"Cody!" The woman in green reappeared at Cody's elbow. "Cody, you saved my car! Did that dreadful man hurt you?"
Cody stared blankly. "Your car?"
"I think Miss Cane means that the Lexus is hers," Nick said gently. He laid an arm across Cody's shoulders. "Quinlan wants our statements, man. You up to it? D'you remember what happened all right?"
"Uh--yeah." Cody shook his head to clear it. He remembered everything. Even the woman in green was coming back to him. "Melinda. You're Melinda, right?"
"That's right. Melinda Cane, deputy principal."
"Thank you, teach. If you wouldn't mind going back to the gymnasium, one of my officers will take your statement. I need to speak to these bozos." Quinlan stopped in front of them, hands on hips, staring at Melinda until she turned on her heel and walked away. Then Quinlan rounded on Nick and Cody. "The volleyball team dropped the ball, huh?" He snorted. "Don't suppose you happened to get a look at them between serves?"
***
Cody's shoulder throbbed like fire, there was a sizable bruise forming on his jaw, and his back ached unrelentingly. The fluorescent lights of the squadroom were giving him a headache, and the too-dry piped air made his eyes sting.
He and Nick had pored over the mugshot book while Murray and Wes, the department computer expert, had searched interstate records for leads to high-end car theft rings. They'd come up with a big fat zero, and Cody stared at the weak, swirling coffee in his polystyrene cup while he listened to his partners bicker.
"The only way is to do an aerial sweep. Gimme the stats on the missing cars and I'll be able to spot ‘em from the air. Simple." Nick snapped his fingers.
Cody crumbled the edge of the cup between his fingers. It was already two am. He knew Nick could fly on a few hours sleep--hell, on no sleep--but he also knew neither of them were getting any younger.
"There are twelve cars missing since Sunday! That's a big haul, Nick. For a gang as organized as that, you have to bet the vehicles are under cover."
"Not all twelve fit the profile." Quinlan's sarcastic tones quelled the computer expert's excitement. "But they're definitely organized. Wish I could say the same about you three."
"If I'd had the Mimi, I could've followed those bums," Nick grumbled.
"I have the names of the drivers from the limo service. That's somewhere to start." Murray rubbed his hands. "Isn't this great, guys?"
"I wouldn't call a car theft ring great, Boz," Cody said tiredly, snapping off another piece of spongy polystyrene.
Quinlan stood up. "Me neither."
Cody stood too, putting his cup down on the desk. Half of the cup's rim was missing, torn into jagged peaks, and specks of polystyrene littered the floor under his chair. He scuffed his shoe over the evidence.
Nick came up close behind Cody. His hip nudged Cody's and his hand rested lightly between Cody's shoulderblades, but he spoke to Quinlan. "You'll keep us posted?"
"For what good it'll do." Quinlan smirked.
Cody turned and headed for the door, fighting the absurdly exposed feeling that had come over him when Nick's hand had disappeared from his back. Rationally he knew it was reaction to the fight and exhaustion kicking in, but it took all his concentration to make it across the busy squadroom and out into the corridor.
As they exited the building, away from prying eyes, Cody swung back, bumping hard into Nick in his haste to get close to him. His breath came loud and ragged in his own ears.
Nick staggered a little but said nothing. His arm went round Cody, supporting, steering, anchoring him. Cody stumbled once then recovered, moving in step with Nick, his breathing steadying as they crossed the parking lot toward the Jimmy.
"We could stake out the country club parking lot. I could rig up a camera surveillance system. Or wait, maybe the yacht club would be better. What do you think, guys?"
Nick made some reply that Cody didn't catch. His head hurt worse and there was roaring in his ears. He stopped beside the truck, swaying a little, hoping that Nick wouldn't let go, and fumbled in his pocket for the keys.
"Uh-uh, big guy." Nick took them out of his hand. "I'm driving. C'mon, get in."
Cody found himself in the passenger seat with Murray clucking solicitously over him from the rear. "I guess you took a harder hit than we thought, huh, Cody? Nick, d'you think we ought to take him to the hospital?"
Nick started the Jimmy and patted Murray's arm. "No, I just think we all need a good night's sleep, you know? I'm bushed." The truck rolled forward and Cody closed his eyes.
***
The vehicle lurched to a stop and Cody froze, listening for machine gun fire or worse, the tearing shrieks of death. But all he heard was a grunt in the back talking too loud, and Nick carelessly jangling the keys.
He hissed through his teeth in warning. Patrol must be over, but even in camp they weren't safe—he'd lost count of the number of times Pitbull'd drummed that in their heads.
Nick touched his shoulder in understanding and barked something at the talkative soldier. The truck rocked as everyone piled out and Cody knew he should follow. But his eyes wouldn't open, his feet wouldn't move. He was too tired to be afraid, until Nick's hand disappeared from his arm.
Then fear came. Cold in his belly, dark and dense, holding him in his seat forever. The jungle was cold tonight, and the wind through the trees sounded like waves on a beach. Cody tasted the salt of his own tears. Please don't leave me.
A chain rattled close by and Cody tensed for the explosion. But instead the truck rocked and squeaked as his door was opened and then Nick's arm eased around his shoulders.
Cody gasped air, eyes flying open. Nick drew him close, holding him steady without speaking as Cody took in the rubber dash of a civilian truck, the orange glow of lights, the soft slow chop of dark water. He felt himself shaking.
It felt like seconds, but Cody had an idea that hours might have passed by the time Nick gently guided him out of the truck. His legs barely held him up and halfway down the companionway he went to his knees.
Nick carried him the rest of the way.
***
Cody woke in the pale light of dawn. He was in Nick's bunk, not his own, crowded against the wall. Nick lay beside him, one arm slung across Cody's ribcage, his knee between Cody's. He was sleeping lightly and as Cody moved, his eyes flicked open.
"You okay?"
"Mmm." Cody sighed and moved incrementally closer to Nick. It wasn't the first time they'd woken up in the same bunk. His memory of the night before was hazy, but he remembered getting slugged. His shoulder twinged and he winced.
Nick rolled on his back and shifted his grip, gently inviting Cody in. Cody nestled close thankfully, curling into Nick's side and breathing a sigh of relief as Nick held him.
"Go back to sleep, baby," Nick whispered, rubbing Cody's hurt shoulder with one hand. "I got you. We're okay. We're okay, buddy. We're okay."
The Riptide's cabin faded into a hundred jungle bivouacs, the tiny gray-walled bedroom on base, the cramped, uncomfortable holds of a score of choppers. They could be in any of those places, or none of them, but wherever they were, they were okay. Nick said so. Cody closed his eyes and rested his head on Nick's shoulder. "I'll take next watch," he muttered.
"Sure you will, big guy." Nick stroked the back of his neck. "Sure you will."
The next time Cody woke up, he was alone. Sun streamed through the window on the opposite wall--above his bunk--and he sat up, blinking in confusion. He was in Nick's bunk. His shoulder throbbed, deep and heavy, and he could feel bruises starting on his ribs. He felt hot and stiff, and the headache from the night before pressed threateningly behind his eyes.
He laid a hand flat on the wood panelled walls, listening to the soft slap of the sea against the hull. It was real; it, and the Riptide, the prom job and the car thieves. He closed his eyes, but that didn't hide the long ago jungle that threatened to engulf the present. Cody folded in on himself, starting to shake.
"Cody! Cody, take it easy, man, take it easy." Nick's voice was a lifeline and Cody clung to it with everything he had, somehow forcing his eyes open. Then Nick had hold of him, pulling him out of the past, out of the jungle and into the sturdy built-in bunk of the Riptide.
Cody landed, gasping, staring at the sick knowledge in Nick's eyes. The past was still as raw and close for him as it was for Cody. Cody groped for Nick's hand. "Don't leave me there, buddy," he said in a harsh whisper.
"Never," Nick said simply and sat down on the bunk at Cody's side. "You feel like some breakfast yet?"
"Dunno." Cody rolled his shoulders slowly and shot a sideways look at Nick. "I'm still kinda shook up."
Nick gave him an appraising look. They were neither of them inclined to admit weakness, even to each other. At least not out loud. "Murray wants us to stake out the yacht club tonight. And after school, we got to meet with Miss Cane. I figure you don't wanna miss that."
Cody grimaced. "If I remember right, I started out by getting K.Oed at her feet, then nearly swung on her when I woke up. Maybe I better take a raincheck."
"Chicks love flawed heroes." Nick's arm slid around Cody's shoulders, solid and comforting. "But I'm gonna tell Murray to save the yacht club for next week. Meantime," he looked at his watch, "I thought maybe you felt like a swim."
"A swim?"
"Yeah. Loosen your shoulder up."
"You know what, Dr. Ryder, that's not bad." Cody grinned. "As long as you're not worried about swimming with a flawed hero, that is. What if I drown you in the final act?"
Nick leaned in close, holding Cody's eyes. "Trust me, baby. We're nowhere near the curtain call on this one. C'mon."
The hot sun and the sparkling ocean chased away the lingering remnants of Cody's headache. Instead of jungle green and running soldiers he saw bikinied babes lurking near the dunes, patterned towels covering nothing more sinister than soft gold sand.
He was sore from the fight, and his ribs were mottled with new bruises. But as he put effort in to swimming faster than Nick, he felt his body start to respond, the stiffness and aches leaving his muscles. He won the race to the end of the beach and rolled contentedly upright, treading water and grinning as Nick surfaced beside him.
"Always said I could take you with one arm tied behind my back."
Nick snorted. "I gave you a head start, old man."
"You sure did." Cody smirked. Nick had been eyeing two pretty girls splashing in the shallows when Cody had shouted the signal for their race. "Didya swallow any water with your tongue hanging out like that?"
"Nope." Nick grinned. "But I got the blonde's number. Watch and learn, buddy. Watch and learn." With a heave of his shoulders, he disappeared back into the waves, stroking hard the way they had come.
"Nick! dammit, Nick--!" Cody started in pursuit, throwing everything he had into the chase. There was no way Nick had had time to speak to the women. There was no way he'd gotten their number. Cody spluttered, nearly swallowing water himself as he mistimed a breath. "Nick!"
Nick tossed him a towel as he jogged out of the water. Cody snatched it out of the air and slung it across his shoulders. "You didn't get anyone's number. You're--"
"Sure I did." Nick pointed. The two girls he had been appreciating earlier were halfway up the beach, heading for a gold dune buggy. Black letters on the vehicle's minimal body proclaimed "Cookie's Cookouts" with a local number embellished in flowing script underneath.
"That's cheating. That doesn't count."
"Sure it does." Nick's easy grin lit up his face. "That makes three for me this week, and none for you. Count ‘em, buddy."
"No way. If Cookie over there counts, Melinda sure as hell counts. I can find the number of the school in the directory and--"
"Three-One, then." Nick slung his arm around Cody's shoulders. "But I tell you what, big guy," he said, lowering his voice confidingly. "Cookie's the one for my money. After all, we already know she looks hot in a bikini. And she has good-lookin' friends."
"Melinda's got a good figure," Cody protested. "And she can dance, she said."
"Uh-huh. You have fun with that." Nick chuckled and started up the beach, arm still around Cody. The two girls got in their beach buggy and shot off along the sand with a roar. Nick looked after them and nodded. "She looked high maintenance to me. And one more thing. Mine can cook."
Cody stared at him, outraged, then shoved, meaning to bring Nick down in the sand. But Nick was too quick for him, diving away and scrambling up the beach, laughing. Cody gave chase.
They arrived back at the Riptide sandy and exhausted, still giggling, arms across each others' shoulders. Cody took a hot shower and emerged to find nothing remained of the pain from the hits he'd taken but a lingering heaviness in his upper body. He donned his white pants, and was holding up his lemon and peach polo shirts, trying to decide which one to wear, when Nick came back from the bathroom, toweling his hair.
He dropped his towel when he saw Cody and took the polos out of his hands. "Nah, wear a sweater, man. You'll stiffen up if you get cold, you know?"
"Oh." Cody nodded slowly, realizing Nick was right. "I guess, but I feel great now."
"An' that's how you want to keep it." Nick bent and rummaged in their closet, bare ass bobbing, and Cody looked away hurriedly. Melinda. Melinda's tits in the green clingy dress.
Nick tossed a pair of his own jeans to the bed, followed by his light blue shirt. Then he held up one of Cody's light sweaters, the white one patterned with narrow colored stripes.
Cody shrugged. "I guess. Or the diamond one."
"I like this one." Nick held it out. "And I'm three up, so that makes me the expert, huh?"
"I dont think it makes you an expert on my sweaters," Cody retorted, feeling his color rise. Nick always did better with girls--didn't get tongue tied, always had a line. Didn't seem to care if the chick didn't go for it, just flashed that blinding smile at the next in line. And there was always a next.
Cody sighed. Girls liked him--he knew that--he just had to work on his conversation. Keep it flowing, don't panic, don't look at Nick's ass. If he got those three things down, he'd do just great. He took the sweater from Nick and pulled it on.
"There you go." Nick pulled on his jeans and picked up his shirt. "You look great."
Cody swallowed hard. "So do you." Without waiting for a response, he ran upstairs to the salon.
***
In the cold light of day, Melinda didn't seem quite as alluring as she had in her green evening dress. But her pink sweater highlighted perky, tight breasts, her dark curls bounced on her shoulders, and the sway of her hips belied her sensible straight teacher's skirt.
She slid a check across the desk to Cody, barely glancing at Nick and Murray sitting on either side of him. "We're very glad we hired you," she purred. "We have another event coming up, a celebration of our football team's successful season, and I'd like to hire you again."
"Boss! I've got some excellent ideas for improving communication and visibility--"
"I'm sorry." Melinda Cane interrupted Murray. "I wasn't clear. It wasn't your agency I'd like to hire for that occasion." She sat back in her chair, smiling slightly. "It was you, Mr Allen."
"Me?" Cody exclaimed, as Nick and Murray chorused "Cody?"
"Yes, you. I was most impressed with the way you handled yourself last night. Not that your colleagues weren't also effective, but the next event is smaller. I feel one man is all I'll need. Of course, I'd expect to pay less."
"Now wait a minute. This isn't how we work, Miss Cane. You hire the agency at the same rate, and you get the cover you need. And even for a small function, it would be hard for one man--"
Cody raised a hand, cutting Nick off in mid-stride. "Nick's right, that's how we usually work. But maybe this once we could make an exception?"
Nick gave him a fulminating glare. "Listen, Miss Cane. My partner here would really like to help you out, and so would I. But we don't work without backup. I'm sorry, but that's the way it is."
Cody opened his mouth to argue, but Murray spoke first. "Nick's right," he said gravely. "Last night should have been a simple job, and yet we nearly ended up in the ER."
Melinda sighed. "Well, I'm disappointed, but I understand your position." She smiled and stood up. "I'll be in touch with the details. Thank you for your time, gentlemen."
As they headed out the door, Melinda took Cody's arm, holding him back. Cody hesitated, looking from the woman to his partners' retreating backs.
"I don't care whether you bring your friends to this pep rally or not," she purred. "But I thought you might like to get together tonight."
Cody blushed. "Really?"
Melinda bumped her breasts against his arm. "Really. And my plans don't include Mr Ryder and Mr Bozinsky. Do you think you can slip your leash in time to pick me up at seven?"
"My--my leash? What do you mean?"
Melinda looked amused. "Will Mr Ryder insist on providing you with backup?"
"That wasn't what Nick meant. Security can be more dangerous than it looks, Melinda. If you don't have backup, things can go wrong real fast--"
"They sure can." Melinda was staring, lips pursed, at Nick, who was striding rapidly back down the corridor toward them. Slowly she turned, pressed against Cody, and kissed him full on the mouth.
Cody gasped, cock filling uncomfortably in his tight pants. Then Melinda stepped back as Nick came to a stop in front of them.
"Are you done here?" Nick asked shortly.
Melinda gave a low chuckle. "Have a nice walk," she said softly, and went back inside her office. The door clicked shut.
"What was that about?" Nick gave the door an unfriendly stare.
Cody blushed a little and turned away. "Nothing." He started walking.
Nick fell in step with him. A few strides later, he dropped his hand between Cody's shoulderblades. It felt great, and Cody felt the tension Melinda had started in him unwinding--then suddenly realized she might still be watching them. He pulled away.
Nick gave him a hurt look, then stuffed his hands in his pockets. "So you're taking her out, huh?"
"I didn't say that."
"You didn't have to." Nick sighed. "Listen, I just... I wish you'd stick with Tammy, man. She's cute, she likes you, and she doesn't drive a Lexus. Or teach school."
"And she's ten years younger than me. This one time, Nick, can you just--not?" Cody stopped, staring stormily at his friend.
Nick stared at him, a curious mixture of sorrow and anger in his eyes. Then he shrugged. "Nothing to do with me anyhow, big guy." He turned on his heel and marched off toward Murray and the Jimmy without looking back.
Part Two