Michelle "Mickey" Gregg is an undercover cop for the Jump Street Program. She has been working with Doug Penhall, Judy Hoffs, and Harry Ioki for two years. Her new partner, Tom Hanson, joins the team and these are their cases.
Revolved around the 1...
It was around midnight when I finally gave up. I grabbed my phone and quickly dialed Tom's number, hoping he was awake. I could not suffer through this alone.
"What?" He asked into the phone groggily.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"Hey, Tom, it's Mick."
"Oh, Mick... hey, how are you?" Tom asked sleepily.
"I'm sorry to call you on your night off."
"It's no problem at all," he said.
"Can you come over?" I asked.
"To the chapel?" He asked.
"No, my apartment."
"Me? C-come over? To your apartment?"
"Yeah, I have an emergency."
"An emergency?"
"Yeah."
"What kind of emergency?"
"Are you willing to stay up all night?" I asked while looking down at the baby, who I decided to affectionately call Dumpster Baby. He stopped crying momentarily to start gripping at my earrings.
"Depends..." his voice trailed off in curiosity.
"Just come over with diapers and formula."
"Diapers? And formula?" He sounded utterly confused.
"Yes, diapers and formula."
"I don't understand."
"I could not be more clear."
"Back up... maybe I missed something."
"Oh." I shook my head. "Sorry. I'm exhausted. I found a dumpster baby and Fuller wants me to watch it tonight and... oh my god... babies are so difficult."
"Dumpster baby?"
"I found a baby in a dumpster."
"Oh, god," he said.
The baby gripped at my earring and pulled really hard. I yelped and instinctively said, "son of a—"
"No swearing in front of the baby," Tom interrupted me.
I used my free hand to release his tight grip on my earring and begged Tom to get here quickly.
"Yeah, I'll be right there," he said and we hung up.
Tom does not live too far from me, and there's a store really close by. After a short period of time after our phone call I heard a knock at my door, and the baby started crying again. I picked him up, bouncing him gently as I walked to the door. I opened it and Tom was standing there with a brown paper bag of diapers, formula, and other baby stuff.
"Papa's gonna cook you dinner," he said as he readjusted the paper bags in his arms.
"You're a life saver," I said, "he won't stop crying."
