Dinner and a Kid

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Micah broke himself from his aimless staring at the textured ceiling of his apartment as his phone started going off. He searched between himself and the cushions of the couch to find it before swiping at the screen to answer. "Hello?"

"Hello, Micah," Jeff responded in a clearly up-to-something voice. "Want to come over for dinner?"

Micah groaned and rubbed his hand over his lips. He knew it wasn't a good idea to spend too much time with Jeff, even if the offer was tempting. He was all down for sitting on the man's porch drinking and talking; but things didn't work like that for him, not really. "I don't know if that's a good idea."

"Why do you say that?" Jeff acted offended.

"For one, the Sheriff acting friendly with me."

"I'm allowed to have a personal life, Micah. I can have friends; and it's something that's up to me to deal with when I'm on the job and have to enforce the law," Jeff sounded exasperated about having to explain it.

"Well then how does that look for you being personally involved if I want custody of Sasha?" Micah questioned him again. "They might think you're showing favoritism there."

"Oh for the love of—will you just get over here?" Jeff raised his voice slightly. "Or do you not want to have dinner with Sasha?"

"I'm on my way," Micah announced, rolling himself off the couch and making sure he had his essentials of keys, wallet, and cigarettes before leaving.

He showed up at Jeff's house with both Jeff and Sasha on the porch. Jeff was apparently giving Sasha a lesson in how to start and use a grill without singing off his eyebrows or arm hair in the process. "Who's cooking?" Micah asked, setting his helmet aside and giving the attentive Bandit a pat on the head.

"Sasha is, under the promise he doesn't burn my house down. But he is determined to serve something more than a simple steak." Jeff groaned, taking a nervous step back but still hovering over Sasha. "Steaks and some weird vegetable dish."

"It's not weird," Sasha sighed, waving Jeff away. "You've got to balance your meals. You're going to clog your arteries."


"He's like a mini-Mom," Jeff grumbled, meandering back to the open door of his house. "I'm grabbing a drink. What do ya'll want?"

"Chocolate milk," Sasha piped up.

"Kid, that's like the one thing I don't have. Pick something else. Plain milk okay?" Jeff tried to reason.

Sasha seemed disappointed but agreed. "I'll take a beer," Micah said, pushing his hands into his pockets.

Jeff's eyes were on him in an instant. "I thought you said you weren't going to drink?"

"I mean..." Micah glanced suggestively towards Sasha. "He's not in my custody yet. I've been drinking less as it is, one won't hurt."

Jeff stared him down, lips pressed thin, but he obliged. Micah sat back on the patio swing, wondering which part of Jeff was concerned; was it the cop part of Jeff that was worried Micah would get himself into trouble, or was it the part that was claiming to be Micah's friend and genuinely concerned?

Micah rocked the swing slowly with his heel as Jeff returned, balancing two beers under an arm and holding Sasha's glass of milk in a free hand. Sasha laid out some carefully marinated steaks on the grill before dipping inside to use the kitchen for whatever else, with the promise of checking the grill and telling Jeff to leave it alone unless something went wrong.

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