"Alright." Sergeant Biggs's voice boomed across the briefing room, as always needing no microphone. "We're almost at the end of today's meeting. Our dear captain has graciously agreed to let us host two members of the Red Light production crew for a short training visit. He left it to my discretion to decide who gets the honor of taking our esteemed guests on a little ride-along. No, Officer Kim, I'm not accepting volunteers…"
Christopher Landry glanced at the younger woman. Officer Kim had stopped being a boot—a rookie under a training officer's supervision—only three months ago, but already carried herself with the confidence and attitude of a ten-year veteran. Good for her. Still, a ride-along with a couple of Hollywood people should really go to someone with a bit more experience and a calmer temperament—someone like his old TO, Musa. But Musa was nowhere to be seen. Odd.
"Normally, Officer Musa would be the one assigned to our guests," Biggs went on, his tone making the choice sound so obvious that Landry nearly rolled his eyes. "But unfortunately, our colleague got caught in the pre-holiday rush and had a little accident. He'll be back after New Year's. So the honor will go to teams Kowalsky–Benton and Landry–Jackson."
Chris stiffened, caught off guard by the announcement.
"Me?" slipped out before he could stop it. His partner grimaced playfully in Kim's direction, as if to say, Ha, this time I win.
"Think of it as a chance to catch your breath after all your recent adventures," Biggs suggested.
"Great," Chris muttered under his breath. Sure, he could use a break, and a patrol with a ride-along rarely got called to anything serious—but that also meant all the mall fights, cake-throwing incidents, and holiday chaos would probably fall to him. Wonderful. Just perfect.
Beside him, Kowalsky—his slightly older colleague with pale skin and clear eyes—nudged him with an elbow.
"Hey, we're in this together, buddy."
Landry smiled faintly. Right. Someone had to bear the honor of babysitting Hollywood stars, and this time it was their turn.
Jackson raised her hand without waiting for permission.
"So who exactly are we riding with?"
The sergeant shot her a sharp look—he didn't like interruptions—but didn't comment. Crossing his arms, he replied, "Kowalsky and Benton will host the head showrunner, Sarah Rubenstein. You, Officer Jackson, and your partner will get the star of the show—Darren O'Shea."
Chris Landry flinched. He cleared his throat. His mouth had gone dry.
"Maybe… maybe we could switch?" he asked quietly.
"Oh, what's wrong," came a teasing male voice from the back, "afraid your shop can't handle that much male beauty?" A few others laughed.
Landry ground his teeth but ignored the jab. He didn't even bother to look back to see who'd said it. Instead, he kept his eyes on the sergeant, hoping his face didn't show how badly he wanted out.
"Sorry, Landry," Biggs said. "Given the nature of your work—and the character O'Shea plays—you're the best match."
Perfect. Just fucking perfect, Chris thought, unable to argue with such airtight logic. He shot his partner a look and saw sheer delight in her eyes, as if she'd just unwrapped an early Christmas present. She was also making faces at a clearly jealous Kim.
"That won't be a problem, right?" Biggs asked.
"None at all, sir."
"Good. One last thing—remember, it's the holiday season. Even the most ordinary citizens can start acting crazy, so…"
"Expect the unexpected!" came the familiar chorus of voices, and moments later the officers began to disperse.
"You four, stay," Biggs ordered. The four—meaning the two assigned patrol pairs—lingered near the front.
"It'll only be three days," Biggs said, "but I don't need to remind you to avoid any potentially dangerous situations. Civilian safety comes first." Of course he didn't need to—every officer had that drilled into their head—but procedure demanded the reminder. "The showrunner should be fairly calm, but O'Shea might play the hotshot."
"I'll make sure he stays out of anything risky," Chris promised, a tight knot forming in his stomach. "If he gets cocky, I'll just keep him in the car."
"Good attitude. Alright, our guests are running a bit late, but they should be here any minute. Show them everything—every boring, routine procedure we've got. Maybe then a film crew will finally understand that our job is more paperwork than gunfights."
They could all dream. The truth was, this wasn't the first time Hollywood folks had done a ride-along—and so far, the results on screen had been… disappointing. None of the officers had any illusions about this one either. They agreed to it only so no one could accuse them of being closed off to civilians and the media.
"I think they're here," Jackson said eagerly. "Judging by the noise outside."
Chris didn't look toward the door. He really didn't want to. He wanted to delay the moment when he'd have to see, not on a screen but in real life, the one and only Darren O'Shea—the boy who'd once wrecked his perfectly happy high school life.