On the Job Training

by Kim Colley

Copyright (c) 1997

Forever Knight and its characters are the property of James Parriott, et al., and the

suits at Columbia & Sony/TriStar. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * * * *

"Three more house reds."

At least she didn't have to worry about mixing the customers' orders up. But this

damn outfit her "boss" made her wear. She tugged uneasily at the hem of her short

black rubber dress. This was really going too far beyond the call of duty.

 

Some of the Raven nightclub's more short-lived customers and employees had had

their lives unnaturally shortened recently. This was causing the club's wealthy

owner no small degree of displeasure, as the Raven was always in need of "fresh

blood," as he put it. So he had complained to her captain, who promptly assigned her

to work undercover - as a waitress.

 

She realized now how lucky she'd been that Vachon was her "first," so to speak. He

was a hell of a lot more normal than these guys. She shrugged one of the customers

away as he stroked her neck, only to find he'd moved his hand to her backside.

 

"Watch it, buddy!" She hauled off and belted him. The whole club went silent.

 

"My, my," Lacroix purred, appearing out of the shadows. "I do apologize, Julian.

She's a trainee. I'll see that she's properly . . . disciplined." He took Tracy by the

elbow and led her into his office.

 

"My dear Officer Vetter," he cooed, "you must try to behave more civilly to my

guests. I brought you here to stop any further loss of customers, not to run off new

ones."

 

"That man was sexually harassing me," she declared in righteous indignation. "Does

this sort of thing go on all the time? How many other waitresses are subjected to this

sort of treatment? Why haven't you done anything to stop it? You know, I could

report you to the EEOC."

 

Lacroix sat down in the midst of this tirade, putting a hand over his eyes. When at

last she ran out of steam, he said, "My dear, has anyone told you that you have

spunk?"

 

She smiled proudly. "Thank you."

 

He lifted his fingers to gaze up at her. "I hate spunk." He stood up and leaned close

to her, gazing deeply into her baby blues. "You will mind your manners and

concentrate on finding the killer."

 

She put a hand on her hip and tossed her hair. "You can't put the whammy on me,

pal. Vachon says I'm a resister. And you don't have to hypnotize me to get me to do

my job. I'm a damn good cop. I'll find the killer."

 

With that, she turned and flounced out of the room, oblivious to the fact that Lacroix

was appreciatively eyeing the sight of her body encased in the uniform he'd

hand-picked for her.

 

Oh, he was going to enjoy this one.

 

* * * * *

 

She was on her feet until a half hour after closing. Lacroix made her stay and help

with clean-up; he said it would look suspicious if she left before all the other girls.

She noticed he seemed to be always nearby when she had to bend over or reach

above her head for something. She really was going to report him.

 

She left at 3:30, still in her uniform. She was parked in a lot two blocks away. As she

clicked down the wet sidewalk in her three-inch heels, she could hear the sound of

footfalls behind her. She surreptitiously reached into her purse and put her hand

around her .9mm Glock. Clicking off the safety, she continued walking at a steady

pace, as the stalker's footsteps quickened.

 

She heard a woman screaming behind her and swivelled around.

 

"Freeze!"

 

A woman in a flannel nightie, pink housecoat and duck shoes stopped in mid-run, a

butcher knife clutched in her upraised hand. At her command, the woman dropped

the weapon, and Tracy cuffed her and read her her rights. The mad housewife didn't

seem to care. She blurted out her whole story at the scene and on the way to the

station. Her husband was a vampire, although he refused to make her one as well. It

would kill the sexual tension, he told her, but the sexual tension was gone six months

after the wedding. That's when he started hanging out at the Raven, famous for its

human - and very attractive - waitresses. She'd been driven mad by jealousy, she

said. Tracy was positive she'd be found not guilty by reason of insanity with a story

like that.

 

* * * * *

 

"Thank you for coming, Officer Vetter - Tracy," Lacroix said with a smile. He poured

her a glass of wine as she sat at the candlelit table in his private rooms at the club.

 

"Oh, no problem at all," she said perkily. "Just doing my job."

 

"I must express my admiration for the . . . dispatch you showed in - how do you put

it? Collaring your perp. You see, I was watching it all from the rooftop. Such

fearlessness," he said admiringly. "Although I am a little disappointed to see you've

returned to your old wardrobe."

 

"Well, it's kinda hard to maneuver in all that skin-tight rubber."

 

"Au contraire, ma cherie. Let me demonstrate."

 

He did.

 

Finis.

 

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