Chief O’Riley returned from his meeting with the Mayor looking as if he had eaten his lunch in the town sewer. He stormed into his office and slammed the door behind him. No one dared venture in to see what had pricked the Chief’s tough hide so thoroughly. In fact, the seasoned cops had the good sense to figure out reasons to disappear.
When Chief O’Riley opened his door twenty minutes later, only the young and naïve remained. He glared around at the few remaining. “You, pretty boy,” he bellowed. “In my office now!”
Marc knew who had been tagged ‘pretty boy’ without looking at the Chief. People were always asking him if he was a model or a movie star. They always seemed disappointed when they found out he was real cop and not just posing as one. Even cut short, his dark hair looked good. His strong jaw and high cheekbones were a model’s dream. His physique was excellent: tall and muscular. However, most agreed his puppy dog eyes caused women (and some men) to sigh when they saw him.
He had just completed training and this was his first week on the force—all at a desk filling out paperwork for other cops. He knew the Chief had just clinched his nickname for his whole career. By tomorrow, every cop in the damn city would be calling him ‘Pretty Boy.’ Even as he walked to the Chief’s office he heard the name repeated between snickering chuckles.
“Close the door,” the Chief ordered. “Sit,” he added.
Marc sat on the edge of the chair.
The chief stared at him as if he were a bug on exhibit. “Do you have some secret fantasy about being a model?”
Marc’s jaw tightened. “No, sir.”
“Then why do you look like that?”
“Look like what?”
“Like a god damn model! Why so you look that way?”
Marc’s lips tightened. “It’s just the way I look, sir.”
“Well, it got you an assignment. The Mayor said to find someone good looking, and I seriously doubt she could fault me in my selection.”
“Sir?” Marc asked with more interest.
“You’re going undercover to crack a prostitution ring.”
“Yes, sir.” Marc was grateful for an assignment, but exactly what role did the chief have in mind. “As a pimp, sir?”
The Chief rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “Since when does a pimp need to be good looking? The Mayor thinks we are being prejudicial in our attempts to curtail prostitution. You’re going undercover as a male escort.”
“An escort to women or men, sir?” Marc asked nervously. He prayed it wasn’t men.
“That is irrelevant. You don’t actually fuck em Connors. They solicit sex for money, and then you bust them. So it really doesn’t matter what sex they are.”
Marc wished to disagree, but he said nothing.
The Chief handed him a card. “Get yourself hired with this service. Call me when you get in.”
As Marc rose and reached for the door, the Chief added, “Connors, watch your step. I’ve got a bad feeling on this.”
“Why’s that?”
“Something don’t seem right. Be very careful. I’d rather you fail to make a bust than to land us a lawsuit for entrapment and false arrest.”