Piggy AND her DOA: Studewoods Package

Its time I dress. Capt says there's a package in Studewoods we need to take care of. Black jeans. Black T-shirt. Black Nike Air Force 1s. Nude lipgloss. I slick my locks back into a ponytail. I'm feeling drained. Lately, it's like I have this looming feeling of exhaustion. Why? I never get enough sleep. I know that. And I know not enough sleep can have a drastic effect on  your health. Then there's Michael David. He turns me on. I can't explain it. He's been following me for months now. His office is across the way. I know what kind of car he drives. The type of cologne he wears. He has an impeccable taste in suits. That's what sets him apart from most G-men. Tailor made everything. Bulgari this. Micheal Kors that. When he's deep in thought, I know that he rubs that bald head of his. He's an insomniac like me. Spends many of his days in expensive hotel suites. Writes to relieve stress. I drive him crazy. He's in a relationship, and its dysfunctional at best. He fantasizes about me like I do him. I drive him crazy because he can't figure me out. Can't analyze me or compartmentalize who I am. Adjust my harness and think about sitting in front of him. I rub his bald head while he kisses my thighs. Easy Piggy. Pressing issues. I have got to get a handle on the climate here in Houston. You hear all kinds of things. The streets is talking. I'm cool with that. A lot of negative shit is being said and I embrace that. It's when they aren't talking about you, you should be concerned. How I miss my daddy. We talked about everything. Everything I know today almost I learned from ______. "Coyle, get your ass downstairs. We're ready to load up!!!" I swear Fairfield got on my last nerves most times. I looked at the case file on my desk. Gaines, Marcus. DOB June 16, 1978. Born and raised in Houston, Texas. From Cashmere Gardens. In and out of the system his whole life. Black male. Three children. Two girlfriends. Plenty Priors. He holding my dope warrant. Cop Killer huh. So this is personal. DOA capeus. First day back on the job in a while and this is what I gotta deal with? He got a 50k purse on  his head though. I'm with it. Pictures of his girlfriends in here. I see he likes redbones. I may have found an angle. "Team, we got a lead on Gaines?" First one to speak up is Harrison. Internally I suck my teeth and roll my eyes. Harrison is a real asshole. I suspect he want me too. "Yeah, Coyle. He's laid up with one of his old ladies right now. We were told that he has an AK. So we're probably gone have to put him down." I hoped not. I wanted this ordeal to go as peacefully as possible. "Let's hope not Harrison. Hopefully we can all go home." I checked the magazine and got in the van. Again like I had done so many times before, I looked at the men and one other woman who surrounded me. We all had shields to defend and had taken an oath to serve and protect the city of Houston. That’s what we all had in common. I believe it was Alan Pinkerton who first coined the term “police subculture”. It’s true. There’s a camaraderie surrounding us and it is hard to understand if you are not in the trenches with us. People hate you for different reasons. But hell let’s face it. Most people hate us because we’re cops. I put a piece of Big Red gum in my mouth. I never go out without gum. I pass it around. We chew methodically and quiet. Not much to say because we know this situation is probably gonna turn out bad. I touch the cross around my neck that my Mattie Mae gave me. Say a prayer and listen to Brad Jordan’s Southside on my Pandora. Gotta love Scarface the South Acres Fool! I look at Marcus Gaine’s picture once more and load a slug in the chamber. “I hope you play nice with Piggy.” My team erupts in a fit of laughter. I’ve lightened the mood. Off to defend my city.