Possessing Morgan:
A Matter of Conviction
by Aurelia
GENERAL DISCLAIMER: This is an original work of fiction and, as such, the characters are the property of the author. If you wish to use any of these characters it would be appreciated if permission was sought first.
SEX DISCLAIMER: This story depicts a loving/sexual relationship between two consenting adult women. If you are under 18 years of age or if this type of story is illegal in the state or country in which you live, please do not read them. If depictions of this nature disturb you, there are many fine tales availableon the internet that are not based on this premise. This is sexual-tension heavy story.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: To all those native New Yorkers out there, I apologise. I have never visited New York, and Internet research only goes so far. I am sure that my descriptions of locations probably do not match up with reality, but it was the atmosphere of a specific type of neighbourhood and not necessarily the location that I was aiming for. So please read the tale in the spirit it was written.
THANKS: Thanks to my Master Beta, GreenMoon, who keeps telling me to go away and play in the sandpit while she tries to concentrate. Women…
I also wish to thank Liz for her assistance in proof reading.
FEEDBACK: I always appreciate feedback, so let me know what you think at: aurelia_fan@yahoo.com.au
© August 2007
* * *
CONVICTION:
Function: noun
Pronunciation: k&n-'vik-sh&n
1 : the act or process of convicting of a crime especially in a court of law
2 a : the act of convincing a person of error or of compelling the admission of a truth b : the state of being convinced of error or compelled to admit the truth
3 a : a strong persuasion or belief b : the state of being convinced
synonym see CERTAINTY , OPINION
* * *
Chapter 1
Click click… click click click…. ambulatory pursuit of the suspect…. click click… The cursor winked accusingly at her… C’mon… c’mon… c’mon. Ambulatory pursuit? Hell, I was running after the son of a bitch! Detective Sergeant Morgan Riley O'Callaghan stared vacantly at the screen trying to complete her latest report.
She leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath to ease her frustration. Summer had taken hold of the city and the heat was fueling her impatience. She opened her eyes to see the large ceiling fans stirring up the stagnant air, shifting the smell of stale sweat, bad takeout food, old coffee and residual smoke around without actually removing it from the room. Swiveling her head, she looked at the smaller, portable fans perched atop filing cabinets, vainly trying to create the illusion of a breeze.
Pale eyes shifted to the scattered paperwork fluttering in the light zephyr, her mind wandering aimlessly to the notice board on the wall. Paper was stapled onto the corkboard half an inch thick, from notices about the latest Most Wanted to the sale of someone’s furniture to the next union meeting, all vying for precious space and most of it meaningless to her. The clack of the fluttering paper could be heard over the steady hum of the overworked fans trying to stay one step ahead of the summer heat, while the muted voices of her co-workers droned on in the background. She was bored, she was frustrated and she was edgy. Not a good combination for a woman of her temperament.
Things were too quiet at the Fifth. The heat alone should have pushed someone over the edge to do something nasty, but no. Besides the apprehension of a suspect she was currently trying to put to paper, and the domestic dispute being handled at the other end of the room, New York City, or her little corner of it, was behaving itself. Most unusual.
Weird images of giant octopuses and King Kong flooded her brain all causing mayhem in New York City. Godzilla was running amok on an unsuspecting city, crushing taxi cabs and eating commuter trains for an after-lunch snack. Where did that come from? Mo girl, you’ve got to stop watchin' the Sci-Fi Channel late at night. Or ... it could have been that one a.m. nuked burrito? Nah... it's probably the heat.
Her mind turned back to reality. What is the matter with these people? A small smile crossed her lips at the thought of actively encouraging someone to break the law. She knew the truth. She would do anything to get out of doing the paperwork. She was a woman of action, not a two-fingered desk jockey for the City.
Just as she thought things couldn’t possibly get worse, in strode a middle-aged, balding man of average height. A line of sweat visible down the front of his shirt, he valiantly tried to maintain his professional demeanor but he ended up looking very much like a frazzled newspaper editor. “Listen up!” Captain Delmar Markham was a twenty years’ plus veteran of the force, having worked his way up from a rookie the hard way, or so he kept telling everyone.
Behind him stood a well-dressed elegant woman whose bearing spoke volumes to Morgan. A snob. One of them upstate society bitches… Her mind started thinking they were on the lookout for the woman’s stinky little dog.
“This is the new Assistant District Attorney, Andrea Worthington.” The woman’s smile seemed as fake as the coiffured bob she was wearing.
“What happened to Gloria?”
“She’s been transferred to the Mayor’s office. Miss Worthington has come to us highly recommended from interstate.”
“Well, a good afternoon to everyone!” Morgan’s senses went on alert at the Southern twang of the accent. A Southern Belle. She was a snob and a Southerner, the worst possible combination.
* * *
The mumble in return was less than amiable and Andrea knew she was in for a battle to be accepted by this crowd. She had worked very hard to get to where she was, going against her family’s wishes when she accepted the position in the District Attorney’s Office. The disapproving angle of a raised eyebrow and the pursing of carefully outlined lips told her what her mother thought of her decision to move up North, and to New York no less.
She had fought tooth and nail to get this job, swaying family and friends alike that she was doing the right thing just after getting engaged. At first the decision to seek the position seemed frivolous but the more she thought about it, the more it just seemed… right. And no one was going to convince her otherwise.
She studied the cluttered room in front of her. In this heat the smell invaded her olfactory senses with the subtlety of a tank running full pelt straight over the top of a stationary car. If holding her breath didn’t result in such a terminal condition, she would have done just that.
The detectives present moved toward her in a polite welcome, but her attention was taken by a lone figure at the back, sitting in front of a computer silently watching her. A female detective with striking features and long tawny hair pulled back off her face. Their eyes met for just a moment before the woman returned to her work, leaving Andrea to wonder what affront she had caused.
“Pay no attention to O’Callaghan, Andy. She’s always like that.” The speaker’s mouth turned up into a sneer.
“I’m Andrea Worthington, Detective. And you are…?” She looked at the shortish, slim man of Mediterranean descent standing in front of her. She didn’t like making snap judgments of people, but this man was… sleazy.
“The name’s Detective Frank Morelli, at your service ma’am. But you can call me anything you want, Counselor.” The accompanying smile, and all that it implied, sent a shiver down Andrea’s spine.
“And these gentlemen with you?”
“Oh, yeah. These are my partners Detectives Stanley Fredericks and Jacob Lowenstein. Gentlemen, say hello to the nice lady.” The two lanky men snickering behind Morelli made Andrea think of a little Mafioso Napoleon boss with his bodyguards. She was glad this was only a social visit and not work. She made a mental note to avoid contact with these three, but she suspected that Detective Morelli had other ideas by the way his eyes kept raking over her.
“Nice to meet all of you, now if you will excuse me I have a meeting with Captain Markham.”
“Sure, Andy.” Andrea tried to stop the shudder at the mention of that name.
“Please, Detective, don’t call me that.” The almost comical look of offence on his face grated on her nerves even more. Why is it that men take offense when you’re the one that has been offended… by them?
“Whatever you say, Counselor.”
“Thank you.”
* * *
Morgan watched every move the young blonde made, snickering at her attempts to deter the Three Musketeers from invading her personal space. The Three Musketeers. What a joke that was… but so true. These bozos were the three laziest sons of bitches she had ever met. So nicknamed because they seemed to live by the rule “all for one”, carefully covering each others butts in times of crisis.
Each of them had been in the department for years. Maybe the fact that they hadn’t been shit-canned was because they had someone higher up covering their worthless asses, or ...they were just plain friggin' lucky. It galled Morgan that they seemed to be able to do whatever they wanted, looking busy at the right moment to divert suspicion from their superiors and, from what she had been able to observe, never really doing any work at all. Her foot was aching to plant itself right up their butts.
Morgan had been careful about her career, making sure to be as far away from these three detectives as humanly possible. They had the knack of being in the right place at the right time to take whatever credit they could grab, while making the real detective look like an idiot. And yet they still had not been promoted. Perhaps God was watching after all…
* * *
“Sit, Miss Worthington.”
“Please Captain, call me Andrea. If we’re going to be working together, let’s drop the formality.”
“Very well, Andrea. The name’s Delmar. The District Attorney has been in touch with me and given me a brief rundown on your duties. The Fifth is your ‘home base’ so to speak, but you will also cover cases from nearby precincts as well. I have an office set aside for you, if you would like to see it, however it’s nearly change of shift and I, for one, will be glad to get out of this oven.”
“Good idea, Captain.” Andrea glanced at her watch. “Perhaps I should head back to my hotel and we can start fresh in the morning.”
“Listen, everyone will be heading down to a local pub, McGee’s, for a drink. How about you come along and meet the rest of the people you will be working with?” Markham could see the hesitation in the young woman’s eyes. “Think of it as a continuation of your social visit here. Besides they have cool air conditioning and even colder drinks.” He saw the beginnings of a smile cross that youthful face, watching it light up her beauty and changing the severe demeanor that she seemed to want to present to the world. He inwardly sighed. If only he were twenty years younger…
* * *
There was barely a whisper of a breeze as Andrea and Delmar walked the block to the pub. Scattered along the sidewalk were the rest of the detectives heading to the same place, chatting amiably about the day’s events. Alone… walked Morgan.
“Delmar?”
“Hmmmm?”
“Is that detective a problem?”
“O’Callaghan? No, why?”
“Well, no one ever seems to talk to her and she seems to keep pretty much to herself.”
“Don’t believe everything you’re told, Andrea. Morgan is a very fine detective. In fact, one of the best I’ve ever seen. She just doesn’t tolerate fools easily. To be her friend you have to earn it.”
“Does she have a partner?”
He pointed to a young Chinese-American, shorter in stature to his partner but who walked with a deadly grace. “Detective Henry Chang. Good, solid cop and a family man. They’re a pretty good match.”
“Tell me about her.” She missed the strange look that the Captain gave her.
“Detective Sergeant Morgan O’Callaghan, my officer-in-charge. Mo, if you’re one of the lucky few that she will allow to call her that. She comes from an Irish working class background, and second generation American. Her father was also a cop… Lieutenant Mickey O’Callaghan. He was a damned fine cop and the apple hasn’t fallen too far from the tree. He passed a couple of years ago. It was a real loss.”
As the captain spoke, Andrea studied the redhead walking several yards in front of her. Her attention was first drawn to the long legs. She had never seen anyone with such long legs. The detective was tall and well proportioned, yet she walked with such strength and authority and just a hint of a swagger which seemed to suit her. Interesting woman…
* * *
Morgan pushed through the heavy oak doors to be hit by the chill of the air conditioning working at full force. Groans of appreciation brought a smile to her face as sweaty bodies reacted to the cold air. It took a few moments for her pale eyes to succumb to the darkened room, finally able to make out the layout of the room she knew only too well.
This was where the cops, the detectives, and the very heart of the New York City Police Department lived, where common bonds of friendship and hardship were discussed, secured and dissected in a setting that allowed position and rank boundaries to be crossed.
Morgan grabbed her Black and Tan and moved to a quiet corner to stand, leaning casually against the wooden wall and sipping her cold drink. She was content to watch who would talk to whom, allowing the banter to roll over her as she unwound from the frustrating day of endless paperwork. Around one large table sat most of her fellow detectives, eagerly listening to the new Assistant DA while trying to appear disinterested. A snicker escaped her at the thought. They were so bored they’d listen to air escaping a balloon.
* * *
While Andrea recounted some of her cases whilst living in her native Charleston, she couldn’t help but consciously seek out where the red-headed detective had gone, spotting her drinking quietly in the corner. A loner, and yet the woman seemed comfortable with that fact.
Andrea could sense those eyes on her, drawing her own eyes constantly to the tall woman. It was unnerving to be watched like that, like an itch she had to scratch. When she could stand it no longer she stood. “Excuse me y’all.” Her Southern twang sounded foreign in the midst of the various New York City dialects.
“Everything alright, Andy?” Morelli would just not learn.
“I’m just fine, thank you. Just going to the restroom.”
“I’ll keep your seat warm.” He patted the cushion in invitation and Andrea just knew she had to find somewhere else to sit.
* * *
Morgan lost sight of the Assistant DA and was unaware of her quietly sidling up next to her. “Is there some reason that you are ignoring me, Detective?”
Her head swiveled quickly and she grimaced at the jolt of pain down her neck. “I’m not ignoring you, Counselor.”
“Please, call me Andrea.” The small blonde breathed out her name, her accent sensuously sliding over the syllables.
“Something you want, Counselor?”
“Is there something about me that annoys you, Detective, or do you treat everyone you meet the same way?” Andrea looked into the emerald shards studying her, not quite sure what she saw in them.
The silence seemed to go on interminably and just as Andrea thought the woman was not about to answer, she spoke. “Look, Counselor, I don’t talk much, alright. Stop trying to draw me into a conversation that neither of us wants to have.”
“You are assuming, Detective, that I don’t want to talk to you. Up until now that was never my intention. However, your lack of manners does not inspire me to continue this conversation.”
“Maybe you should listen to your inspiration then.”
“What have I done to offend you, Detective?”
“You have done nothing, Counselor. Good night.”
The detective made a move to leave but Andrea brought up her hand to halt her. “No, there’s something else. Spit it out now before we embark on a doomed friendship.”
“You are expecting a lot here, Counselor. I made no mention of friendship.”
The tall woman tried to side-step her but she was not going to take no for an answer. “Talk to me. What is your problem?”
Morgan sighed. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you… I don’t like you. “
“You have barely met me and you already have an informed opinion of me?”
“I know your type, Counselor.”
“My TYPE? What? I’m a woman? I’m blonde? I’m a lawyer? What?”
“You are a stuck-up little rich girl playing God. You haven’t worked a hard day in your well-manicured life, Counselor.” A small hand came up and slapped her face before she even had a chance to stop it. Despite the noise in the pub, curious faces turned in their direction, intent on finding out what had transpired and what would happen next.
Andrea was mortified that she had reacted so violently to a slur on her ability as an attorney and on her personally, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to take that bullshit from someone who didn’t even know her. She shoved the detective towards the back of the room into a little alcove, out of sight from prying eyes. “Just who the hell do you think you are? I’m not going to take that from anyone, not even if you’re Elvis himself.” She lifted her hand again but found it held firm by a large hand.
“You do that again, Counselor, and you may just regret it.”
“Are you threatening me, Detective O’Callaghan?”
“Not at all, Counselor. It’s just a friendly warning.”
“There was nothing friendly about that warning… Morgan.”
“Morgan? Now you’re assuming an awful lot… Counselor.”
Angry brown eyes stared into stubborn green ones for an eternity that lasted mere heartbeats. Andrea stepped back, lowering her sight from the intense jade eyes looking deep into her soul. “Ah… I… “ She had never been lost of words before, feeling out of a depth she didn’t know she had been in.
A long finger tipped her head up, demanding that she look back into the eyes facing her. “Counselor… Andrea…” The small blonde’s heart skipped a beat at the mention of her name. “Go back to the table. I will endeavor to be more civil to you in future. Good night, Miss Worthingon.” With that, Morgan left the pub, not once looking back at the dark orbs boring a hole in her back.
As she stepped out into the summer heat, Morgan couldn’t stop the word escaping her lips. “Shit…”
The small blonde watched the woman with the long red braid down her broad back move steadily away from her. Not once did the detective look back at her, dismissing the disagreement with that final step through the heavy wooden doors. She stood for a moment, sighing deeply, trying to sort out exactly what had just happened. Her own defenses had gone up at the hostility rolling off the other woman, unable to stop the knee-jerk reaction that had sent her hand across Morgan’s face.
Andrea looked up to see the leering face of Frank Morelli. “Hey, Andy!” Andrea’s emotions were roiling and she was just in the mood for an ass-whoopin'. And if he says that one more time, I swear, I'm gonna knock HIS ass straight into Christmas!
Dragging her feet, Andrea made her way back to the table. “Sit your buns down here, doll.” She glared at him. “C’mon, Andy, what are you waiting for?”
She simply could not believe the audacity of this man being so intimate with her. Back home, his ass would have left a skid mark on the sidewalk from the speed he would have been kicked out the door, and she would have enjoyed doing the kicking herself. Before she could stop herself, Andrea leaned over to whisper in Morelli’s ear “If you call me that one more time, I’ll cut off your balls and serve them to you on a platter!” Storm clouds gathered on her brow when she saw where his eyes had wandered. “”And if you don’t stop looking down my blouse, I’ll throw in your eyeballs for free!”
She straightened, but managed to catch Morelli whispering to a seated Jay Lowenstein next to him. “Dyke.”
Andrea was so close to exploding there and then, but a full-fledged tantrum before her first day of work was probably not the most ideal beginning… memorable, but not ideal. All that therapy flew out the window as the weasel smiled a sickly sweet smile at her, his dark eyes locking with hers triumphantly. He was the ultimate male chauvinist and she was mentally grating her teeth in aggravation.
An exaggerated trip managed to dump her drink into Morelli’s lap. “Oh my, how clumsy of me. I am so sorry, Detective.” Words dipped in honey came out of her mouth but the anger in those darkening eyes told the small man he was walking on thin ice. “Excuse me, Mr. Morelli. I have to refresh my drink.”
Andrea could feel the beginnings of a headache wandering around inside her head trying to decide where to settle down for the night. As she approached the bar, a muttered expletive escaped her curvaceous lips. “Prick…”
“Well, he certainly is that…” She glanced to her left to see Morgan’s partner standing next to her, fingering his empty glass as he waited for the bartender. “I don’t think we’ve met, Counselor. I’m Henry Chang.”
“Andrea Worthington. It’s nice to meet you, Henry Chang. Do I have a bullseye tattooed on my forehead, Henry? Who was their target last week?”
He tipped his head back and laughed, “Ahh, Andy, you’ll fit in just fine.” Looking sideways to see her reaction to his jibe, he watched as an elegant eyebrow tipped up in annoyance. He chuckled as she ordered another drink, stopping long enough to add his own request to the order.
The small woman leaned over, and in a mock whisper, “Just don’t use it in front of him, please.”
“Not a problem.” He grabbed the two drinks, pulling a twenty out of his pocket. “No, Counselor, please allow me. C’mon, let’s see if we can find a quiet seat somewhere else.”
“Please!” Andrea tried not to whine but the thought of sitting next to that sleazebag made her stomach churn. She followed the slim young man to a recently vacated table in the back, graciously accepting the tall drink placed in front of her. Henry sat down opposite her, gently swirling the tumbler sitting between his hands.
“So…”
“So…”
“What brings you to the Big Apple, Counselor?”
“A plane, Detective.”
Henry knew he had his work cut out for him trying to talk to this woman. He blew out a short breath which emerged as a chuckle.
“Sorry Henry, it’s my warped sense of humor.”
“I’m glad someone has a sense of humor around here.”
“Is it that bad?” A dreary working environment… oh great. Andrea was already dreading work tomorrow.
“Nah, but things can get a little tense around here.”
“Tense? Let me guess… Detective O’Callaghan is at the center of it.”
“She has her moments but she’s a good cop, Counselor.” He looked over his drink to the blonde seated opposite him. “What is the Andrea Worthington story?”
“You really want to know? Or is it for the water cooler gossip tomorrow?” She bit her tongue at the look of hurt on the young man’s face. “I’m sorry, Henry. It’s just that the reception here has been less than hospitable.”
“I saw that. My apologies for Morgan. I’ve never seen her react like that before.”
“Never mind. I’ll just have to remember to stay out of her way for a while.”
“I wish you didn’t have to. She’s a little reserved, but she has always been civil to everyone, even when they didn’t deserve it…”
“I must have got some special treatment then.”
“She’s got some bug up her ass about you, that’s for sure. Just give her time.” He stopped for a sip of alcohol. “Now, back to my question… the Andrea Worthington story.”
“Hmmm… the Andrea Worthington story. Where do I begin? I’m from Charleston, if you haven’t found out that tidbit yet. I worked in Legal Aid there for about three years. It was my first job straight after I graduated. My family has been in Charleston for as long as anyone can remember.”
“Straight from Legal Aid, huh? That’s impressive.”
“Well no. I did a bit more work here and there.”
“Here and there?”
“Well… the city Prosecutor’s Office as well. About another three years. You know, small stuff…” She smiled wickedly at the jibe.
"Ha! Oh hey, you any relation to that big shot investment realtor, Jefferson Worthington?"
“So you know Daddy then?” Andrea smiled sweetly as she watched his jaw wobble before it hit the table with a thud. Just as quickly his jaw snapped shut like a flapping roller blind.
“Wowwww… you’re like really, really rich, huh?”
“I’m ain't starving, honey, if that’s what you’re asking. The money belongs to my parents, not me. I’m a bit stubborn that way.”
“You? Stubborn? Nah, couldn’t be.” A wide smile graced Henry’s lips as he teased the young woman mercilessly.
“Good…” she chuckled, “…very good. I can see you’re going to keep me on my toes, Henry.”
“Well someone has to, Counselor.”
“Henry, you can call me Andy. You’ve earned it.”
He again chuckled. “I can see you’ve been talking to the Captain, huh?” When he saw the questioning look on the blonde’s face, he continued. “About Morgan. He says the same thing to everyone who asks about her.”
“And what do you call her, Henry? Have you earned Mo?”
“Yes I have, but I rarely use it.”
“Why?”
“There are maybe two or three people outside her family who call her that. It’s a very personal thing and I try not to use it in public, especially around those three.” His head nodded in the direction of the large table at the front. Andrea knew exactly who he was talking about.
“Yet I suspect you are probably the closest she has to a friend in the precinct.” She raised the cold glass to her lips, allowing the cool liquid to slide down her heated throat. “Why is she like that, Henry?”
“Well, Andy, she wasn’t always a loner. Quite the opposite in fact… or so I’ve been told.. A bit before my time though. So what I’m about to tell you is second-hand knowledge.” Andrea leaned back against the soft padded bench, finding a comfortable position for the regaling of what was, she was sure, to be an interesting piece of the puzzle that was Morgan Riley O’Callaghan.
“Morgan’s dad was still around in those days. Lieutenant Michael Lochlainn O’Callaghan. But he was just ‘Mickey’ to everyone, and a bit of a legend on the force, or so I hear. A no-nonsense cop who did not tolerate corruption within the ranks, and there was a lot of it back then. Morgan had just come out of the Academy and in her first post.” Andrea’s mind wondered about the tall redhead as a rookie cop and a smile crossed her lips at the thought of the young whippersnapper trying to follow in her dad’s footsteps. Bright as a button, full of a youthful exuberance, a sense of integrity and an almost boundless energy to uphold the law, young Morgan would have been a sight to see in her New York City Police blues.
“So, what happened?”
“Nothing at first, but she was ‘Mickey’s girl’. No one is really sure what happened, but something pretty dramatic. After she finally got her promotion to the Detective Division, she had clammed up. She was a very popular girl before then - outgoing, friendly, go out of her way to help you.”
“And now?”
“Well, you’ve seen her. You have to earn her trust now. Whoever had that much of an impact on her must have been someone close. She won’t talk about it, so anything now is speculation.” Chocolate brown eyes studied the counselor in deep thought. “You seem awfully interested in our little Morgan.”
“Me?” Her voice came out as a squeak, like a young child caught with her hand in the cookie jar. “You’re being silly. I’m just curious, that’s all.”
“Uh huh.”
“And just what are you insinuating there, sir?”
“Nothing.” He grabbed Andrea’s hand, looking at the engagement ring glittering on her finger. “Looks like congratulations are in order, Counselor.”
“Thanks, Henry. We’re getting married next year. The typical June wedding.”
“Why are you here then?”
“This position is very important to me. I couldn’t pass the opportunity up.”
“Uh huh.” She pursed her lips at his innuendo. “So, where is the lucky man then?”
“Back in Charleston.”
“Is this going to be a long-distance wedding or something?”
“Of course not, silly. He’ll be joining me in six months once he has settled our affairs back home.” She took another sip of the cool drink, hoping that the action would put a stop to all his questions, but the look in his eye told her she wasn’t kidding anyone. “Thank you for your candor concerning Detective O’Callaghan, Henry.” She decided another tack was in order. “So what have I done to garner special treatment from her?” When no answer came, she looked across the table to the detective. “What?”
“You don’t want to hear my theory on that, Andy.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Oh, no you don’t.”
“You’re not going to tell me?”
“Time will tell whether I’m right or not.”
“So, I have to wait to see whether she’s going to hit me or not?”
“She won’t hit you...,” he smiled gently at her, “…unless, of course, you do something to deserve it.”
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?”
“A bit of that ‘cat eating the canary’ type of look. Just what is going through that head of yours?”
“Nothing at all, Andy. Nothing at all.” His eyes turned away from hers, giving her the impression that this particular conversation was now closed.
* * *
Morgan entered the stifling heat of her apartment, which perfectly matched her roiling emotions. Her body pressed against the closing door, shifting her weight so that she was leaning against the wood as the door shut. Her head dropped. “Damn, damn, damn…” Why had she been so stupid to react? It was too damned hot to lose control like that. Too much was at stake, and one short blonde did not fit into her carefully laid plans for her career… or life.
She wandered through the modest apartment, strewn with second-hand furniture and old family knick-knacks. She grabbed the handle of the aging refrigerator and opened it, studying the sparse smattering of food in various stages of decay, her eyes finally settling on a six pack of beer in the back. Eagerly, she grabbed one, placing the cold bottle against her neck, rolling the liquid ice pack over her heated skin.
Popping the cap, Morgan moved over to the lounge window, opening it wide and silently praying for some small breeze to ease the heat wave. She climbed through the window, taking a seat on the fire escape as she slowly consumed the beer, silently watching the golden rays of light slowly deepen to a rich crimson as the day finally came to a close, returning to the fridge twice more to retrieve another one.
Slowly she began to unwind, the alcohol soothing her nerves. Morgan breathed deeply, tasting the flavor that was distinctly New York City in the back of her throat. But it was the more subtle aromas that she sought, more precisely the smell of cooking cabbage. She closed her eyes, allowing her memories to surface.
Corned beef and cabbage. A typical Irish neighborhood dinner fare. How many times had she turned her nose up at the food when she was a kid? Too many times to count, and yet now she would give her eye teeth to taste her mother’s cooking one last time.
She missed her family, all seated around a small crowded table. Her dad’s meager wages barely put food on the table and clothes on their backs. Those days were tough times, and yet they were the happiest of her life. That was when she had family. Her mother was still alive and her three brothers were still at home.
After her mom died, the three boys scattered to the far reaches of the country. Danny moved to Boston to become a fireman, Conall moved to Miami to open one of those fancy disco bars and the oldest, Brennan, got his law degree and moved to San Francisco. They left Morgan all alone to fulfill their father’s dream of becoming a New York City cop to continue the O’Callaghan legacy. She didn't mind because she loved the job, but the way she had been left to take care of it all, and to look after her dad, made her angry every time she thought about it. There was no discussion or agreement, just a quick goodbye before they left. The only other time they came home was for their father’s funeral, but they only stayed to say goodbye before returning to their careers and their own lives.
From that moment, she had no family. The boys showed her no sympathy, no comfort nor any assistance. They earned her condemnation for it too. And now… now she was alone.
Her mind turned to her latest problem. Andrea Worthington. She just knew the counselor was going to turn her life upside down. One look into those dark eyes told her that. As the last of the remaining light faded, she looked to the sky to watch the first stars appear. “Star light, star bright…”
She knew what her wish would be, but she suspected this was one wish that was going to be hard pressed to fulfill. With a deep sigh, Morgan stumbled back through the window into the hot apartment, knowing damned well that sleep was going to evade her for more than one reason.
How am I doing? Drop me a line at aurelia_fan@yahoo.com.au