Episode 38 Recalibration (part 2/3) (Patreon)

Angela Page

Sploosh.

That was the only word she could think of as she watched Jack Routh perform right in front of her. She looked around and noted flushed faces and glazed eyes of her fellow contestants. She understood their reactions.

Having the best seats for this private party, having Jack mere feet away singing with such seductive lyrics from them was simply mesmerizing, and dare she say it, arousing.

She thought her final day as an undercover agent would be simple, slip away unseen, and then get a pat on the back and a handshake for a job well done. The task force had already planned it with the organizers, and she would fail to advance from the preliminary round when they released the results tomorrow.

She did not expect much from the private party organized for them, but Taylor Swift’s sudden appearance charged the atmosphere. Jack’s surprise performance brought down the thunder and lightning.

“He’s even more handsome this close.” She heard giggles and whispers as Jack sang.

“Who is she?” Rachel Morina leaned over and asked.

“That’s Jack’s wife.” She replied.

Her eyes never left the couple. It took her a moment to make the connection to this pretty, blushing, nervous woman in a cocktail dress that showed off her figure to that stern, formidable police captain who occasionally attended the Task Force briefings. She had to admit that the older woman looked lovely, and she could see why Routh had fallen for her.

The song they were both singing bordered on scandalous, and with the way they looked at each other as they sang, it wouldn’t surprise her if the two started making out and having sex on the stage after their performance.

They even looked the part, with Zoe Anderson’s hair looking a bit messed up, and several creases on her dress made it look like she was ready to have sex with her husband. Routh had unbuttoned part of his polo shirt and rolled up his sleeves, showing his muscled forearms and hints of muscle on his chest.

Girls shifted in their seats around her, and she could see more than a few using the program as makeshift fans to cool off. Eyes were dilated, mouths partially open, and those who didn’t bother to wear bras on their gowns showed stiff nipples as they shifted on their seats. They were clearly aroused, and she had to admit she was as well.

When the song finished and as the couple on the stage kissed, it elicited shrieks, whistles, and screams from the girls and the audience.

“You have to introduce me!” Rachel turned to her, looking breathless with a noticeable flush on her cheeks and chest. “You promised!”

Her roommate looked noticeably calmer after her stalker’s arrest. Her smile was more genuine, and her eyes finally stopped looking around for hidden threats at every corner. The younger woman still insisted on checking every part of their hotel room, including the bathroom, before dropping her guard. It was a good habit, and she approved of Rachel’s precaution despite some calling it paranoia.

“Later.” She tried to calm the eager woman. “When we have more privacy, I’ll bring you along.”

“Promise?” Rachel asked.

“I promise.” She patted her roommate on the shoulder.

Hours later, she led Rachel to a smaller conference room that became the task force’s temporary base for the week. Her fellow agents told her there was to be a party, and she was eager to eat more delicious food. The portions she had to eat for the past few weeks to maintain her figure were far too small.

“Whoa.” She was expecting boxes of pizzas. and buckets of fried chicken. Instead, she saw a buffet table prepared at one end of the room. Several agents from Homeland Security and the FBI eagerly filled their plates while a fancy-looking drinks station was set up at the corner. Was that watermelon juice?

“What’s all this?” She asked one of the agents she worked closely with.

“Last night of the operation, Freebush.” The agent winked. He'd pay for that. He knew she hated her fake name.

“I didn’t realize how many people are working to catch that creep.” Rachel breathed out.

“That just shows you how dangerous that man truly is.” The FBI agent replied. “Good luck on the finals, Ma’am.”

“I was expecting Pizza.” She gestured to the buffet spread. The smell from the food was already making her hungry. “What’s all this? That’s not in our budget.”

“Routh.” The FBI agent answered. “He set that up for us. Nice of him, really."

“And where is he?” She asked.

“I think they’re up on the penthouse suite where Miranda Priestly is.” The agent shrugged. “You have access, why don’t you check?”

This was all so strange. Why was Routh celebrating? With her keycard, she headed up to the Penthouse suite, and as soon as she stepped on the floor from the elevator, she heard unfamiliar voices through the door.

“Should we be here?” Rachel looked hesitant.

“I thought you wanted to meet him?”

“Well, yeah.” Rachel fidgeted on the spot. Poor girl, she was clearly tense. “But we’re going to Miranda Priestly’s penthouse suite! She makes me nervous!”

“She does have that effect on people.” She nodded in agreement, having experienced those piercing eyes and wicked tongue for nearly two weeks thanks to her training for the pageant. “C’mon, she won’t bite.”

The lock beeped as soon as she tapped the key card, and she opened the door, revealing a sight that she didn’t expect to see. She quickly checked the number on the room, and yes, she wasn’t lost.

In front of her was a party, full of famous celebrities. Taylor Swift immediately commanded attention, and beside her was a stunning redhead, Jessica Chastain. They were speaking with Miranda Priestly, while her two assistants hovered near her.

On the other end of the spacious common area of the suite, the actor who played Jamie Lannister lounged with Jack Routh with his wife, and… was that Mary Elizabeth Winstead? Despite the people in front of her wearing casual clothes, she still felt underdressed and out of her depth.

“What... is this?” She heard Rachel whimper beside her.

She heard plenty of rumors about the secretive Rosewood Circle from the tabloids and gossip shows, and right now, she was seeing the actual members of the group firsthand. She didn’t realize Miranda Priestly was part of the organization, and she wondered how truly influential they were.

There were a few individuals she didn’t recognize, like the two women who were with Zoe Andersen at the buffet table. Still, she was stunned to see the likes of Nikolaj Coster-Waldau and Mary Elizabeth Winstead as part of the group, and they weren’t A-list actors compared to Jessica Chastain.

“Agent Page.” She turned to the voice and realized Routh was standing just in front of her. As usual, the man that the bureau was desperate to recruit was the first one in the room to notice their presence. “We’re having a small celebration. Care to join us?”

“Small?” Were there more hidden Rosewood circle members?

“Zoe and I are having a baby.” Routh smiled. “Miss Romina, I’d be happy if you joined us too. You must be starving.”

“Congratulations, and thank you!" She answered before Rachel could get a word in. Jack was right, she was starving.

The group was welcoming, not aloof and cold as she expected. Jack broke protocol when she introduced her as an undercover FBI agent, but she really didn’t mind. The suspect was already caught, and it was just some paperwork that needed to be signed and the task force would be disbanded.

Rachel spent half the time in a daze, and she could see the happiness in the girl’s eyes when Taylor and Jack agreed to take a selfie with her.

“You know you can’t post that right away.” She reminded the younger woman.

“Why not?” Taylor asked.

“Jack here was a judge for the preliminary round.” She replied to the pop star. “If that goes out, some people can accuse her of favoritism.”

“Fine, I’ll post it after the main event.” Rachel pouted. “I’ll miss having you as a roommate.”

“You’ll be fine.” She smiled in reply. “Good luck in the finals. I’ll be rooting for you.”

Was this really an exclusive social club? She looked around the room once more. Everyone was doing their own thing, laughing, relaxing, and carefree as they mingled with each other. She even spotted a smile or two from Miranda when she was speaking with Jack and Zoe. Maybe whatever the tabloids were gossiping about was inaccurate about the secretive group.

Still, she was curious about this strange mix of people from varied backgrounds.

Jack Routh

The smell of chlorinated water made him a bit nostalgic.

 It reminded him of the memories of this Jack Routh’s early days in high school and college. He wasn’t the fastest swimmer, and his times weren’t competitive at the 100 or 200 meter events, but he had endurance. That still allowed him to get a scholarship to UCLA but his career in swimming was not that remarkable.

A few podium finishes in state championships, but when compared to the national level, his times were lacking compared to his teammates.

Without a proper running track, he decided to use the lap pool of the hotel. It was a good workout overall, and he mentally made a note to adjust his training regimen to include swimming.

The weather was cold, but he was able to ignore the chill once he started making laps. He didn’t have goggles and a swim cap, but he could see well enough in the water. He took breath every few strokes, as he felt the burn in his arms and legs as he moved through the water. Once he reached one end of the lap pool, he smoothly turned and kicked off, moving his torso and legs for a few seconds underwater before he surfaced and resumed his stroke.

Repetitive motions like this helped him think. With Zoe pregnant, he needed to adjust his priorities. He would need to resign from Metro eventually and move back to Mid-Wilshire, and perhaps take the program the Department offered for higher education. He’d been thinking about taking a Master’s program, and perhaps offset some of the costs by offering to lecture at his alma mater. The rest of the time, he could resume regular patrol work, but that depended on the brass signing off on his proposal.

There was also that upcoming meeting with his uncle, and what the man hinted at in his letter about what truly happened to him under that black ops program.

As he finished twenty laps, he leaned back on the side of the pool. He was about to reach for his water bottle when a familiar scent other than chlorine reached his nose.

“Swimming, huh?” Zoe crouched down at the edge of the pool and handed him his drink.

“It’s a good exercise.” He replied after emptying the bottle. “Want to join me?”

“Why aren’t you shivering?” His wife frowned after she touched the water’s surface with her hand.

“It was cold at the start.” Zoe looked adorable wearing jean shorts and one of his spare white shirts. “Once I had a few laps in, the cool water actually felt amazing.”

The sun was already up, and he could see kids and their parents starting to appear beside the larger lagoon-type pool.

“At least you had a nice workout.” Zoe suddenly smirked. “If you’re done giving a show, would you like to join me for breakfast?”

“What show?” What was she talking about?

“Look behind you.” His wife answered.

He did and was surprised to see quite a few women standing outside on their balconies. A few even waved at him. He realized that the lap pool was just right in front of the wing of the hotel where the contestants were located. When he arrived early that morning, there were barely any signs of life in the area, with only a sleepy lifeguard to keep him company. Just how long was he swimming?

“I’ll get you one of those waterproof smart watches that can track your laps.” Zoe must have read his mind. “I’ll even join you once we find a suitable swimming facility near our house.”

His stomach grumbled at that moment, and he easily lifted himself from the water. He was surprised when his wife suddenly grabbed him and kissed him, and he felt Zoe mold his body to his.

The kiss was getting heated, and he was surprised at his wife’s boldness when he felt a hand grab his ass. He was about to do the same when Zoe stepped back, ending the kiss.

“We’ll have more of that later before we check out.” His wife looked satisfied, seemingly not caring for her now wet clothes.

“Not that I’m complaining, but what was that for?”

“I told you I’m a jealous bitch. Now go and rinse off. I’m hungry.” He hid his smile when his wife slapped him in the ass to get him going. It felt like the roles were suddenly reversed.  

Zoe was already prepared with his towel in her arms by the time he finished rinsing off at the outdoor shower and quickly dried himself soon after.

He felt great after the intensive workout, far different from the jogging routine he usually had every morning. He and Zoe demolished their food, and had seconds and third helpings, making the most out of their stay in the hotel.

“I’ll be resigning from Metro.” He told his wife as they were enjoying their coffee.

He was amused at how jealous Zoe looked. Caffeine and Alcohol were not recommended to pregnant women, and his wife was now forced to drink decaf.

“I figured you’d say that.” His wife replied. “Are you going back to patrol?”

“Partially. I’m thinking of using that program that lets cops earn their diplomas.” He shared. “I’m also willing to give lectures in UCLA like I did with the community college. Do you think the brass will approve?”

“Submit the proposal and let’s out the schedule.” Zoe’s grimace after taking a sip of decaf said it all. “But to be honest, I think West will be relieved if you pass that.”

“What’s the Commander of Internal Affairs got to do with it?” He asked.

“He’s the leading candidate to be the next chief of police. It’s a decision by the commissioners, and they don’t want a chief who’s easily influenced by NGOs and special interest groups. Coleman will be leaving at the end of December.” His wife revealed. “Jessica Cortez is moving to take up command of the division in Palisades. She’s tired of the political circus in Central.”

“That gives her the chance to disclose her relationship with Hondo officially.” He tapped his fingers on the table, deep in thought. “It’s a good decision to resign then.”

“Yes, but that means you’ll take up more slack in Mid-Wilshire, especially with the incoming batch of rookies.” Zoe reminded him. “I already planned out when I will take maternity leave.”

“You’re preparing Wade.”

“He has more experience than me in police work.” His wife admitted. “And he truly cares for each cop in the station. I believe John Nolan was a big part of that.”

“He was really against him joining the force?” He asked.

“It was my second year as a captain on the force.” Zoe replied. “That was the only time he argued with my decisions.”

“Why not Lieutenant Caradine?” He asked.

“He has his hands full leading the detectives. Mid-Wilshire has recently attracted more residents and businesses moving to our area of responsibility. And that means…”

 “More crime.”

“And gangs are trying to move in and use the opportunity.” Zoe looked annoyed for a moment. “We can’t let up, and Caradine is best where he is at.”

“I guess I have to step up too.” He reached out and intertwined his fingers with his wife’s. “I can’t have our little one growing up in an area overrun with criminals.”

 “Yes.” Zoe smiled softly and ran her free hand over her still flat belly. “We can’t have that, husband.”

Katie Barnes

The apartment looked sturdy and secure. She calculated the distance between this place and her new base of operations. About seven clicks east or a fifteen-minute drive, depending on traffic. This area was heavily congested, but she was up to the challenge.

Curious about Mid-Wilshire, she headed out to scout the area that she would soon patrol. Her batch mates at the academy invited her for some R & R, but she declined, not seeing the fun in getting wasted for a week in Florida.

Academy training was a breeze, and she was confident she’d do well once she was deployed on the field. She was tired of spending her days in a foreign desert and the constant fear of IEDS and looked forward to a more peaceful life. She believed reconnecting with the city she grew up in by serving with the police would help with that.

She looked up a her surroundings as she got out of her car. The Mid-Wilshire station was a big complex, and it had plenty of parking areas around it and a small park. It was built up on a slope, and she was satisfied with its defensive position. The flights of stairs leading up to the main entrance meant no car bombs could just drive through and wreak havoc, and that eased some of her worries.

Behind the glossy exterior, she spied the thick concrete structure hidden within it. There was a large basement too, and that was the ideal location in the extreme case of mortar rounds landing on her new FOB.

 A couple of food trucks caught her attention, and suddenly feeling hungry, she decided to taste the local grub. The food trucks provided foldable tables and plastic monobloc chairs, and she quickly moved to one and ate her meal of two burritos and a Coke.

The area seemed to be a popular hangout area for cops, both on and off duty.

“Do you mind if I sit here while I wait for my order?” A large, tall man in a simple shirt, jeans, and jacket approached, and she immediately tensed for a moment before she relaxed. With the half a dozen cops in uniform around her, she realized she was in friendly territory.

“Sure.” She replied. She watched the guy, probably around her age or younger. He seemed alert, aware of his surroundings like she was. He had also adjusted his chair, so his back was facing the dense shrubs.

“What branch of the military were you in?” The man suddenly spoke up, causing her to sit up straight. She suddenly felt vulnerable since she had left her weapon at her apartment. How did he know?

“Relax.” The large man added and placed one hand on the table and the other on top of his knee, where she could clearly see them. He was still staring at the queue in front of the food trucks. “I’m a police officer, and I just came back from Metro.”

“You’re from Metro?” That was her goal, to serve in the famous SWAT unit. She knew there were former Marines and Army soldiers who served in that division, transitioning smoothly from military to a civilian outfit, or so she heard.

“I just transferred.” The man gave a smile as he glanced at the large building of the Mid-Wilshire police station that loomed over them.

“Army.” She finally replied as she answered his first question. “What gave it away?”

“Your shoes were tied in a ladder lace.” The man replied and gave her a quick look. “You’re wearing civilian clothing, yet your pants, military hem, and the cuff sleeves of your polo shirt are extended exactly all the way to your wrist bone.”

“And it’s the way you eat your meal.” The man added. “The others around here are slouched, relaxed, but you’re on edge, like you’re waiting for something to happen at any second.”

“Just got out.” She replied. The man was very observant. “Then I signed up to the academy right after that.”

“Your outfit?”

“82nd Airborne, second brigade combat team.” She replied. “You?”

“I never served.” The man replied and offered a hand. “Jack Routh, P2.”

“Really?” She frowned. There were several things that bothered her about this man seated across from her. For one, he seemed like he came from the military, and his face seemed familiar. She was sure she had seen him before. “You talk like you’re familiar with the armed forces.”

“I am.” Routh replied. “My wife was a former Marine.”

Ah, Marines. She carefully controlled her expression, not wanting to insult the cop in front of her. Those jarheads she met always thought they were hot shits and always flirted with anyone with tits. While not as intense as the rivalry with the Navy, there was still some friendly, sibling-like rivalry between the two branches. The air force didn’t count.

“Hey, Routh!” An older man, wearing a detective badge on his waist, approached, carrying a paper bag in one hand. “Heard you left Metro?”

“Word reached you already?” Good, it seemed like Routh was telling the truth.

“It is when it comes to you.” The new arrival glanced at her. “Who is this?”

“Just someone kind enough to share her table while I wait for my order.” Routh answered.

“Katie Barnes.” She replied. If she was going to work on this base, she might as well start getting to know the people, especially the higher-ups. “I’m a new graduate from the Academy.”

“You’re two weeks early, Officer Barnes.” The detective grinned. “Must be a new record.”

“Figured I’d scout the area I’ll be working in.” She shrugged.

“Oh, I forgot my manners.” The detective offered a hand. “I’m Kevin Wolfe.”

 “He works at the robbery and homicide division.” Routh explained. “You’ll be seeing him and his partner Vestri when you join Mid-Wilshire in January.”

“Look forward to working with you.” The detective smiled and left after she shook her hand. “He seems nice.”

“He’s got a soft spot for rookies.” Routh explained. “Excuse me.”

She was pretty sure she recognized that face. It was at the tip of her tongue as Routh picked up his order.

“I’m going to head to a coffee place two blocks from here.” Routh shared when he returned to her table. “See you around, Barnes.”

“Wait!” She hastily cleaned up the remnants of her meal and stuffed them inside the paper bag. “You said something about coffee?”

“Yeah.” Routh nodded. “I’m a bit picky with that. You’ll be surprised how difficult it is to find good plain black coffee around here.”

“I’ll come too.” She decided. Coffee was life after all, and it was as important as water in the deserts and rugged mountains of Afghanistan.

She kept glancing at her fellow cop, intrigued by what she was seeing. Routh was still young, yet he already served at Metro, and he seemed pretty friendly with that older detective. That meant he had tons of experience already, a clear contradiction to his age.

She had to increase her pace to keep up with Routh’s long strides, and his powerful build made pedestrians move away from him. He was tall, she realized, as the top of her head only reached up to his shoulder.

They passed through a small park, where they encountered a strange scene. She was suddenly on alert when she saw a crime in progress. The procedures she studied at the academy. Technically, she had the authority to make an arrest and looked to her companion and realized he was also observing the scene.

A clearly inebriated man with a large hat was swaying and dancing around the park, harassing and singing to those who were seated around the park benches. The civilians looked annoyed and tried to make the drunk go away, but the man didn’t seem to care and only laughed and sang loudly while holding a bottle of liquor in one hand.

“They call me Cuban Pete!” The man sang in an off key tune. What the hell was this? “I’m the king of the Rumba beat!”

“Police!” She called out. “Drop the bottle and get down on the ground!”

To her irritation, the man continued singing and dancing, acting like he didn’t hear her.

“When I play the maracas, I go chick chicky boom, chick chicky boom!” The man wiggled his ass in front of her.

Enough.

Before the man could sing another verse, she tackled him to the ground. He struggled for a moment, and to her annoyance, he started to sing again.

“The Senoritas they sing, and they swing… with this rumbero…” She tightened her hold on the suspect and pulled out her phone with her free hand to call for reinforcements, but to her shock, Routh stopped her.

“Don’t bother to call this in, unless you want to spend the rest of your day doing paperwork.” Routh stepped forward. “Look, the man’s not drunk, I think he’s high on meds or mentally ill.”

“What makes you say that?” She asked.

“He’s wearing a wristband from a nearby psychiatric hospital.” Routh explained. “The bottle’s dry, and he put pebbles inside it to use it as some sort of instrument. Besides, does he smell drunk to you?”

“No.” She admitted. She thought she was going to make her first arrest.

“And look.” Routh pointed to two men in nurse’s uniforms running towards them. Behind them was an ambulance parked in the emergency bay with its lights still flashing red and blue.

“Thank you for securing him.” One of the nurses gasped as soon as he reached them, clearly tired from running across the park. “He’s a patient who managed to escape the ambulance when we were transporting him.”

Routh briefly checked their identities and IDS and turned over the suspect to their custody.

“He forgot to take his meds.” The other nurse explained. “Let’s go, Eddie.”

The patient, now identified as Eddie, looked unbothered and allowed himself to be guided by the two men back to the ambulance.

“You’ll soon learn that you will need lots of patience and a bit of compassion in this line of work.” Routh advised. “While you’re legally within your rights to arrest him for being a public nuisance, just imagine the paperwork and reports you will have to do.”

“So that threat of paperwork was not a bluff?” She asked.

“No.” Routh answered. “And not all suspects are enemies, either. You have the training to easily take down any ordinary civilian. What you need to learn now is restraint. I had to learn that the hard way.”

There must be a story there, she thought as they resumed walking to the coffee place. The drink was good, as Routh promised, and she made a mental note to pass by this place regularly from now on. As the tall, off-duty cop left her in the café, she finally realized why Routh’s face looked so familiar.

The TV in the café played a recording of Taylor Swift’s concert in front of tens of thousands of screaming fans. Beside her on the stage, in a duet, was Jack Routh. She didn’t realize she spent part of her afternoon in the company of a legend in the academy.