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“Why did I get stuck with this bullshit assignment?” Vice Detective, John Srisuk growled at his boss, reading through the case file of his latest assignment.
Captain Jenkins, the head of Vice looked at the detective, and chuckled. “Detective Srisuk, there is not one other officer in this squad who would look more at home in a back-street dive like Magic Hands than you. Besides, you’re Asian... They’ll never suspect you’re one of us,” he explained. “With any luck they’ll say something incriminating in front of you in Chinese.”
“What?” John gasped, offended. “Sir, I don’t speak Chinese... I’m Thai.”
“Isn’t it the same?”
“No! It’s not... China and Thailand are two different countries... With distinctly different dialects I should add.”
“Thai... Chinese... Same difference... Tomato... Tomato! Just be alert and keep your ears open.”
“Seriously? Are you kidding me? Of course, they’re not the same! And, what does that even mean... Tomato... Tomato?”
“It means you’re taking the damn assignment,” Captain Jenkins huffed. “So, get out of my office and familiarize yourself with the case.”
“Captain,” he protested. “This is bullshit! And if I may add... I feel this whole thing is a tab bit racist.”
“Racist? Really, Detective?” the captain glared at him, rising from his office chair. “You can actually look in my black face and call me a racist... Huh, Detective?”
“Captain... I didn’t mean you are... I was just noting that... The assignment is...,” the detective stuttered and babble, quickly backpedaling.
“Detective Srisuk, do you even own a damn mirror?”
“Excuse me, sir?”
“Do... you... own... a... damn... mirror?” Captain Jenkins repeated, emphasizing each word.
“Yes... Of course, sir.”
“Then use it, damn it!” Jenkins snapped. “When you do... you’ll figure out why I said nobody would believe you’re one of us. For God’s sake... The least you could do is iron your damn shirt. And if you don’t have an iron, take them to the cleaners. Damn it, man! You look like you’re homeless.”
John looked down at his worn, faded jeans, crumpled shirt, and ran his hand through his overgrown hair. He was embarrassed, realizing that he should have had it cut weeks ago. His boss had a point, John had to admit as he looked at his colleagues hunched over their desks. They were all professionally dressed in suits and ties. Each was clean shaven with a precision haircut. The Captain was right. John’s appearance made him the odd man out.
“Yes sir... Certainly sir,” John said, defeated. “Captain... Is there any way I can get a reassignment?”
“No damn way in hell,” Captain Jenkins promptly answered. “You’re perfect for the job. It’s a Thai shop, and you’re our only Thai officer. And you can whine until you’re blue in the face, but you’re taking the case.”
“Fuck it!” John snarled, turning to leave.
“That sounds like a plan, Srisuk!” Captain Jenkins laughed as the door to his office swung shut, almost hitting John in the crack of his ass. “That sounds like a good game plan!”
Deep down John knew that he was the picture-perfect detective to investigate Magic Hands Thai Massage Parlor. “You’d think that if it was a prostitution ring posing as a massage parlor, they’d pick a less obvious name. What guy doesn’t think about magic hands when he’s getting a good hand job,” he grumbled to himself, as he threw the file on his desk and headed for the restroom.
Looking in the bathroom mirror at his rugged, tired, worn image John had to admit that he could really use some magic hands to give him a good rub and tug. The handsome, Thai- American was single, but that’s the way he wanted it. John had survived his share of dead end, failed relationships and really didn’t want to be bothered. He couldn’t stomach trying to make another one work. Honestly, he hadn’t been laid in months. And that was a mercy fuck from a homely waitress who had no one else, and nothing else to do on a Saturday night. He loved sex, but didn’t want the hassle of dating.
Sure, John was handsome enough, but of late he’d let himself go. Ironically, it wasn’t much a good shave and a haircut couldn’t rectify. A change in wardrobe could help as well. Even still, many women found the ruggedly good-looking detective sexy. His thick black hair, straight white teeth, broad seductive smile, and chiseled physique would thaw the coldest Artic pussy. But John simply wasn’t interested.
Two bitter divorces had left Detective Srisuk severely damaged. And in the aftermath of his second divorce, the detective chose to steer clear of the fairer sex. In his mind, pussy just wasn’t worth the aggravation. So, John chose to find comfort in his assortment of lotions and his firm right hand.
Srisuk was convinced that the investigation of the Thai massage parlor was a mediocre assignment, one beneath his level of expertise. But what could he do? So, he decided to make the best of it and took the case. After all, he didn’t have any leverage. John was a hot ass mess and he was well aware of it. And until he got his shit together, Detective Srisuk knew it was just going to be one of many shitty assignments to come.
