“The city is going to be fucking torture today,” Rivera said as we walked inside a coffee shop, waiting in the short line to place our order.
I gave the barista my credit card since it was my turn to buy and took a sip of the dark brew she’d handed to me in exchange for the payment. “Every year, it’s the exact same,” I said to him on our way out. “Drunk people stumbling everywhere, the Back Bay covered in glitter. Screaming, chanting. It’s like Boston’s version of fucking Mardi Gras.”
“And a police nightmare.”
I opened the door for us, and we stood on the sidewalk out front.
“When I was in college …” My voice died out as my mind took me back there. A time when I’d thought I’d be wearing a white lab coat and scrubs to work. When medicine and Pearl and Dylan were the only things that mattered in my life.
The memories were unfolding faster than I could control them.
“When you were in college …” Rivera said, reminding me of where I’d left off.
“Right …” I cleared my throat, staring at the ground, pushing those thoughts away. “Dylan and I would make Patriots’ Day a tradition every year. We’d get shit-faced and watch the marathon.” I shook my head, still remembering. “And now, being thirty-three and working in law enforcement, I have a much different view of the holiday.”
“Ain’t that the truth?” He banged his coffee against mine as if it were a beer. “What are you up to today?”
A guy walked by us, his face and chest painted like the Italian flag, arms high in the air, shouting to no one in particular.
I sighed. “I’m parking myself at my desk, finishing some paperwork for the DA. You?”
“I’ve got a few witnesses to interview for a homicide I was called to last week. I’m going to have to fight the traffic all day; it’s going to be hell.”
I took a drink. “Good luck. I don’t envy you one bit.”
He dodged three girls who passed us on the sidewalk, their arms hanging over each other’s shoulders. They could barely walk, and it wasn’t even nine in the morning yet.
“And I don’t envy you,” he replied. “You’ll be calling me in an hour, bitching that people haven’t stopped coming by your desk and you haven’t gotten a goddamn thing done.”
“Probably.”
He laughed, taking a few steps back in the direction of his car. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Bright and early when she kicks your ass out.” When he flipped me off, I added, “Get a fucking nose strip already.”
“Yeah, yeah. I see whose side you’re on.”
I continued chuckling as I made my way to the police station.