Good Cop, Bad Cop

Cody sat at the bar nursing his weak rum and coke. He didn't want to glance at his watch again, didn't want to look like he was waiting for someone, though he was. He was almost used to this shit‹the waiting around. It seemed like working vice was a lot of waiting. Stakeouts, paperwork, and waiting, with the occasional bust tossed in just to make it worthwhile.

But this was different. He'd been sent down here, to one of the older hotels that wasn't old enough to be chic and too old to be 'nicely appointed', because one of their own needed back up. And he couldn't even take his gun, which made him vaguely uncomfortable.

The problem with vice was that it was both drugs and prostitution, and sometimes they mixed. Currently, they were trying to get a man on the inside of a pretty large and organized ring, a pretty guy who could pull off looking like he sold his ass, but was still bright enough to be trusted. Cody had been told that the guy they picked was up to the job, but it seemed the big boys weren't completely swayed by the trust part.

So Cody got to put his john training into action. He was sitting in the dark and rather depressing bar waiting to be 'picked up' by some guy named Pete. Then they'd go up to a room, make loud and obnoxious sex noises, and he'd leave, hopefully convincing the bad guys that Pete was what he said was.

The guys at the station were already having a field day with this one.

He stifled a sigh and polished off the drink, finally allowing himself to check the time. Eight after ten. Damn it, this Pete guy better turn up soon, or Cody'd be half tempted to walk. Not that he would, but some suit at the end of the bar was starting to look at him with speculation all over his face.

"Hey. You got a light?" The most obvious question in the book came from the side opposite the suit, and it almost made him jump. The kid waiting patiently with a crumpled pack of cigarettes in his hand was maybe early twenties, blonde with odd colored gray eyes.

Cody nodded and reached into his jeans pocket, holding the stranger's gaze. "Yeah. You shouldn't smoke, you know," he said. Christ, this better be Pete. Then again, if it wasn't, maybe he could get the man's phone number.

"I know. Bad for your health." The kid grinned and popped the smoke between the softest-looking lips he'd ever seen. They weren't overly full, or girlishly pouty, but they were perfectly shaped and dark pink, and he needed to get out more if he was reacting like that. Not to mention that the kid was waiting for him to flick his Bic.

"Yeah," Cody agreed, finally getting his lighter and raising his hand. As he sparked the flame, Pete‹if that's who it was‹leaned in and lit his cigarette, his hand curling around Cody's to keep it still. "But then, there are lots of things that are bad for you, I suppose. Like drinking. Want one?"

If this was Pete, they didn't have time and things would move along. If it wasn't Pete, he was in deep shit. At least he'd be there next to a hot man with an amazing mouth.

"Only if you want to get it to go. I was thinking maybe we could go upstairs. There's a lot of things that are bad for us that we could try." His eyelashes were surprisingly dark and thick on such a towhead, and the right set swept down in a broad wink. Bingo.

Cody nodded slightly and looked at his empty glass still on the bar. "Mine's done and gone, and I like the way you think," he said, standing up. "Why waste time?" He caught the suit at the end of the bar looking a little depressed and tried not to feel any sympathy for him. Not like he was actually getting laid, either.

"Exactly." The cigarette got stubbed out with only one puff gone. "One thing I gotta make sure though, is that you understand nothing in life is free."

"So long as I get what I pay for. I pay for quality. It's cheap goods that make life a hardship. You got anything worth my money?"

"Trust me." Those soft, pink lips pursed in a blown kiss. "I'm worth it."

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