Hey guys! I was bored after I got home from work last night, so I started writing. This is a three-shot dedicated the the wonderful Miss Ali. She's the most amazing commenter in the world, and I figured this was the best way to thank her. :]
So thank you, Ali. You're amazingggg.
I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think.
CRIME OF THE CENTURY [Part One]:
Alison stared out the window as the sunshine seeped through the blinds, wishing that she could have been able to enjoy the sunny afternoon instead of slaving away at work. I’m crazy for volunteering for overtime, she thought to herself.
Regretfully, she ripped her stare away from the window and picked up her Strawberries and Crème Frappucino, taking a long slip of the cold drink. The coworkers who sat around her at the large conference table all nursed cups of plain, black coffee, and several of them had already poked fun at Alison and her fruity drink of choice. But she just brushed the comments off, knowing that she would rather drink mud than try to choke down regular coffee.
“All right folks, let’s get started with assignments.”
Alison set her drink down and looked at her boss, who had stood and taken his place at the front of the room. If I have to work tonight, she thought as she sat up straighter in her chair, then I hope I at least get something good.
“Jensen, you’re in the Adam South area. And can you do some follow up work on that burglary case that the Detectives have been working on?”
A older man across the table from Alison nodded. “Sure thing, Sarge.”
“Great,” the Sergeant said, then glanced back down at his list. “Zigler.” Alison perked up when she heard her last name, and she leaned forward in her chair. Please be good, please be good, she prayed.
“You’re in the Charles area until 1530 hours. At that time, you’ll report to the Boardwalk Hall to help out at tonight‘s concert.” Alison’s face fell when she heard Sergeant Lawson say those words.
“Aw, Sarge, you can’t be serious,” Alison complained, slumping in her chair. It was one thing to be working on a Saturday night. It was another to be stuck helping out the rent-a-cops at a concert instead of being out on the streets where the excitement was.
“Dead serious, Zigler,” Sergeant Lawson said. “They request an officer, I give them an officer. It’s called seniority, and you happen to still be the newbie. Don‘t worry, you won‘t be stuck doing traffic control in the parking lot or anything. Apparently the band’s bodyguard is extremely sick, and they need some added help with security.”
Because that’s so much better than parking lot duty, Alison thought grumpily. She pushed a strand of blonde hair that had escaped her ponytail out of her face and quickly scribbled down the details of her assignment. After she was done, she stared at the messy words in disgust.
Her age had bitten her in the butt, and it wasn’t the first time it had happened. At just twenty-one years old, she was the youngest sworn police officer with the Atlantic City Police Department and although she was no longer in training, her eighteen short months of employment was nothing compared to the twenty or more years that some of her coworkers had been in the law enforcement field. So the shifts and assignments that no one else wanted usually fell into Alison’s lap.
“Is it at least a good band?” Alison asked with a smile. If it was a band that she could tolerate, it would make her night a tiny bit better.
“If your definition of ‘good’ means washed-up pop stars,” Officer Jensen piped up, “then yes, it’s a good band. It’s the Jonas Brothers. My daughter’s going to the show.” The man chuckled softly.
“Wonderful,” Alison muttered sarcastically. When Alison was finishing high school, the Jonas Brothers had been one of the most in-demand bands in the country. Alison had been the only one out of her friends that hadn’t been caught up in the nation’s obsession for the trio. Now three years later, the brothers were still on top of the charts. And Alison still wasn’t a fan.
After the rest of the officers had been assigned to their duties for the afternoon, the patrol briefing came to a close and Alison quickly got out of her chair, grabbed her rifle case from under the table and hurried out of the room. She only had three hours before she had to be at the concert hall, and she intended to make the most of it. She pulled the large gun out of it’s case and, after tossing the case into the trunk, locked the rifle into the rack inside the patrol car.
“Radio, 2-Charles-74 in service,” Alison said into the radio microphone after she had sat down in the driver’s seat. She slammed the door shut and leaned back against the headrest, releasing a large sigh.
This was going to be a long night.
“JO-NAS! JO-NAS! JO-NAS!”
It took every ounce of self-control that Alison possessed not to cover her ears. Even from her location backstage, the crowd’s noise was deafening. The brothers weren’t due to go onstage for another ten minutes, and Alison could only imagine how insane the audience would go then.
Several minutes later, a high-pitched voice rang out from the walkie-talkie in Alison’s hand, letting her know that the Jonas Brothers would be coming out into the hall momentarily to do their final preparation before taking the stage.
“All you have to do is stand a few feet in front of them at all times,” one of the venue’s security officers had told Alison when she had arrived two hours earlier. “Just make sure that no one gets too close to them unless they’re authorized.” Great, I’ve been demoted to babysitter, Alison thought.
A door to Alison’s left opened and she turned to see a slew of people come through it into the hall. In the middle of the pack were three men that Alison recognized as being the famous brothers. They looked almost the exact same as they had three years earlier, just more mature. They wore their trademark skinny jeans, a fad that had swept through the nation. One brother, the one with longer, straighter dark hair, wore a pair of sunglasses even though he was indoors. Though Alison didn’t understand this trend, she had to admit that he was rather cute.
The brothers, along with the rest of the group that came through the door, huddled in a circle in the hallway, all of them bowing their heads as someone began to say a prayer. Alison instinctively followed suit, staring at the scuffed linoleum floor until the prayer was complete. The group then did an enthusiastic cheer and lined up behind the brothers at the doors that separated them from the cheering audience.
As instructed, Alison took her place in front of the first brother, one of the curly-haired ones. She pushed the door open, and led the brothers to the back of the stage where they would take their place on the rising platform to make their grand entrance. She stopped short of the platform, and allowed the brothers to pass her. The first two brushed past her, each mumbling a ‘thank you’. The final brother, the one with the sunglasses, flashed Alison a large grin as he passed her.
“Enjoy the show,” he said, then pulled down his sunglasses and winked before he joined his brothers on the platform. Alison couldn’t help but smile as she watched the three brothers make their last-minute adjustments. Two brothers grabbed guitars, the third a tambourine.
Seconds later, music filled the concert hall and the platform began to rise, and Alison made her way around to the side of the stage, near the front row of the crowd. As expected, the audience erupted in deafening screams when the brothers appeared. Alison briefly watched as the boys danced around the stage, noticing how much energy they put into the performance, before turning her attention to watching the fans like she was supposed to.
Goosebumps sprang to Alison’s skin as she watched the crowd and the way they reacted to the Jonas Brothers’ performance. Not a single soul in the hall was seated; everyone was dancing wildly, and every fan seemed to know the words to the song. As much as Alison wanted to dislike everything that had to do with the Jonas Brothers, she realized that she thoroughly enjoyed every song that they played. But it still didn’t compare to the other things that she could have been doing at the moment if she were free of babysitting duty and actually patrolling the streets.
This is such a waste of time, Alison thought, folding her arms across her chest. These girls are harmless teenagers. What’s the worst that could possibly happen?
“Man, that was awesome!” the middle brother exclaimed as he wiped the sweat off his face with a towel. Alison had learned that his name was Joe and that his younger and older brothers were Nick and Kevin, respectively.
“Totally,” Kevin agreed, the heels of his boots clapping against the floor as he walked down the hallway. The rest of the Jonas Brothers’ performance had gone smoothly, and after it was complete they had only been allowed a few minutes to cool down backstage before being ushered toward the awaiting tour busses outside.
Alison led the brothers and the rest of their family out the doors of the venue, only to be temporarily blinded by flashbulbs when she walked out into the night air. She attempted to shield her eyes by putting her hand in front of her face, but it didn’t help much.
“You get used to it,” Joe piped up from behind her. “The cameras, I mean.”
“I don’t think I ever could,” Alison threw over her shoulder, not taking her eyes off the crowd that they were trying to weave through. “That’s why you’re the rockstar and I’m not.” She led them to their home on wheels, and stepped aside to let them board. Almost done, she told herself. Thank God.
“Crap!” Joe exclaimed, coming to a halt outside the bus. He frantically patted his pockets, then looked at his mother. “I left my phone in the dressing room.”
“It’s okay, sweetie,” his mother assured him. “We’ll have someone grab it and give it to you in the next city, okay?”
“No, I need it tonight,” Joe persisted. He pointed at Alison. “She can go with me. I’ll be fast, I promise.” Denise sighed, then agreed to let him go. She shot an apologetic smile at Alison, who smiled in return. What’s five more minutes? Alison thought.
Alison led Joe back through the maze of photographers, noticing that the flashbulbs weren’t as bad the second time through. She and Joe stepped past the two security officers at the door and reentered the concert hall.
“I’m Joe,” the singer announced as the doors shut behind him.
“Officer Zigler,” Alison replied. She shook Joe’s outstretched hand, trying to ignore the electricity that shot up her arm the moment their hands touched.
“Do you have a first name?” Joe asked.
Alison looked up at the pop star, who stood a good four inches taller than she. Now that his sunglasses were gone, she noticed that he had stunning honey-brown eyes. They were a peculiar shape, but they gave him character. Her eyes drifted down to his chiseled jaw line, noticing that it was splashed with a day’s worth of stubble. Her gaze fell farther down, taking in his Adam’s apple and his prominent collarbone that peeked out from under his V-cut shirt. The shirt that was so tight it left little to the imagination.
“Is that a no?”
Alison ripped her gaze away from Joe’s torso and looked into his eyes again, embarrassed that he’d caught her attention wavering . She smiled meekly at him.
“It’s um, it’s Alison.”
“Alison,” Joe repeated, then flashed his famous grin. “Pretty name.”
“Thanks,” Alison replied, blushing.
They reached the dressing room, and Joe walked inside. Alison leaned against the wall outside the door and looked up at the ceiling. Way to come off as a star-struck teenybopper, she scolded herself. Seconds later, Joe reappeared in the hallway, holding up his iPhone. He looked like a five-year-old that had just been reunited with a lost puppy.
“Got it!” he exclaimed happily.
They headed back down the hallway for the exit, and Alison tried to prepare herself for the wall of media that was most likely waiting for them outside the doors.
“So are you single?”
Alison laughed and turned to look at Joe. “I don’t think---” Her reply was interrupted by a shout coming from farther down the hall. She turned to see a man walking at a fast pace toward her and Joe.
“You! There you are, you stupid Jonas boy. You’re dead!”
Alison stuck her hand out in front of Joe’s chest. “Stop,” she instructed. Both she a Joe came to a halt, and her heart began to race. The man continued to walk toward them, and Alison instinctively rested her hand on top of the gun on her right hip.
“Sir, stop!” she yelled, but the man ignored her. A reflection of light bounced off an object in the man’s right hand, and Alison’s pulse raced.
“Sir, stop right there!” she shouted again, but the man continued to charge toward her. “Get back,” she told Joe, and to Alison’s relief, he did as told and took a few steps backward.
“You’re dead, Jonas,” the man said again, the anger apparent on his face. “You and your God da.mn brothers are dead.”
“Sir, stop,” Alison repeated again. The man ignored her again, and she pulled the pistol out of its holster and pointed it at him. “Put. The knife. Down.”
“Screw you,” he replied, tightening the grip on his weapon.
“Put the knife down or I’ll shoot,” Alison said. Please stop, she silently prayed. Please.
But the man didn’t stop. Instead, he charged at Alison and Joe. Alison pulled the trigger and the loud echo of three gunshots rang out in the narrow hallway. The man collapsed as all three bullets hit him in the chest, and the knife fell out of his hand and skittered across the floor. Oh my God, Alison thought. Her hands shook as she placed her gun back into its holster and grabbed the handcuffs off her duty belt. She rushed over to the still man, who was sprawled out on his stomach, kneeled down beside him and snapped the cuffs onto his wrists.
“Radio 2-Charles-74,” Alison said into the microphone of her portable radio, her voice slightly shaky. “Can I get ALS to my location for a gunshot victim?” She looked down at the man in in front of her. “Male, mid- to late-forties, unconscious, shallow breathing.”
“Received,” the dispatcher replied. “Is it officer-involved?”
Alison swallowed, trying to get rid of the lump in her throat. “Affirmative,” she replied. “Can you send a Sergeant?” The dispatcher confirmed that he would send a supervisor to her location, and that medics were on their way. Alison looked at the man in front of her, completely forgetting about Joe, who was still silently standing behind her after witnessing the whole ordeal.
I just shot someone, Alison realized. Though she remained calm on the outside, on the inside the was completely freaking out. Police officers never picture themselves having to shoot someone; most go through their entire career without ever having to pull their firearm on a subject. But here Alison was, not even two years into her career, and she had just shot a man.
Unanswered questions flew through Alison’s mind. Who was this man? Why was he so angry? Why was his anger directed at the Jonas Brothers, of all people? And how the heck did he even get into the backstage area?
Alison’s eyes got wide as she noticed that the man’s back, which had previously been slightly rising up and down as he breathed, was completely still.
“No,” Alison stated. “No, no, no. You cannot die. Please, no.” Her hand flew to the man’s neck, and tears sprang to her eyes.
The man had no pulse.
So if you haven't figured it out already, this is set three years in the future. Joe is 21. And yes, I realize that the real Ali is not a police officer. Use your imagination. :]
