"Have you heard of the..." I took the tickets for the heavy metal concert out of my pocket and squinted at them in the dark. "Lewis and the Dead Wolves before this assignment?"

"No." Tom chewed his minty gum. He wore dark eye makeup and a punk black leather jacket, with a bright button up shirt and torn up black jeans and chains hanging from his belt. I think he used some of the black spray-on hair dye from wardrobe.

I was wearing a leather jacket with black jeans. I stole some old Rolling Stones t-shirt from the chapel and cut it up to make it a halter top. My hair was so thickly teased and full of hairspray, I nearly lost one of my rings in it. I had a fake lip ring on that pinched around my lower lip that was covered in thick black lipstick, and my foundation was set to make me look as pale as possible. I threw on a studded belt with a chain too. I had big earrings dangling from my ear lobes, bracelets that went halfway up my forearm, and my eyeliner was thick.

Jenko assigned us to work a case at the Warriors Arena, where a death metal band was going to be playing for the punk culture of the city. Word had gotten around that cocaine would be at the concert, available to the teenagers who attended so Tom and I were there to make sure that that would not happen.

Tom and I stood in line under the faint lights of the arena and I looked at his fluffy hair and his pale complexion. He had a light stripe of color that Judy sprayed onto his hair and I said, "you look a little like Sweeney Todd."

Tom bit his bottom lip and nodded in agreement. "Maybe that's why my undercover name is Tom Barker..."

"Next!" We heard. We stepped forward and gave the man our tickets. He gave us back our ticket stubs and said our names to welcome us. He let us through, and we quickly found our seats next to a bunch of rambunctious teenagers who were waiting for their favorite band to get on stage.

"What kind of music do you usually listen to?" I asked Tom while we had some down time. I caught sight of the earring dangling from his lobe of a antique brass key. I thought it was quite unique.

"A bit of everything, I suppose," Tom answered. "I'm not very picky."

"Even this?"

"No, not this," he chuckled. He asked, "you?"

"I am definitely into the death metal, scream-o... thrash metal. All the metal."

"Really?" He cocked an eyebrow.

I let my face relax and I laughed, "no, not really. I like Aerosmith, Led Zeppelin, and Johnny Cash. I'm more into rock. I also love Jimmy Buffett. And Elvis."

"I can get behind that," Tom nodded. "Led Zeppelin— favorite song?"

I thought for a moment before I answered, "Good Times Bad Times, probably."

"And Aerosmith?"

I was quick. "Rag Doll."

"Solid answers."

"You?"

"Black Dog, and Walk This Way."

"Not bad," I chuckled. "Why couldn't they have spread rumors about coke at a rock concert?"

"I would not have pegged you to be a rock fan, Michelle," Tom said.

"What would you have guessed?" I asked.

"I don't know... Michael Jackson and Cyndi Lauper."

"It's like you don't know me at all, Tom," I laughed and looked down at the fishnet gloves on my hands. I readjusted them, and opened and closed my fist.

"I swear I've heard you listen to Michael before."

"I do like pop, it's just not my favorite," I said.

"What about Queen?" He asked.

I nearly gasped because I couldn't believe I had forgotten to add them to my list. "I love Queen."

"Same question."

"That's really hard... but Don't Stop Me Now or Crazy Little Thing Called Love."

"Killer Queen."

"That song is amazing. Bohemian Rhapsody?"

"That song is one of the best songs ever written. No question," he said.

"I couldn't agree more."

"And you like Jimmy, huh?"

"I adore Jimmy," I giggled through my correction.

"Adore? Wow. Which is your favorite from him?"

"That's really hard... Come Monday, Cheeseburger in Paradise, and... Margaritaville."

"And Elvis?"

"Can't Help Falling in Love, definitely."

Tom and I halted our conversation when we noticed a few of the young adults gathering around and pressing the backs of their hands to their noses. Their eyes were glazed over, and their jaws were moving back and forth. We call it coke jaw. I sighed, but reminded Tom that we technically could not make a bust that moment unless they sold the drugs to us.

Tom looked at them disappointedly and asked, "why do they ruin their lives like this? It's hard to watch."

"Many teenagers start with marijuana. Then they see if heroin or cocaine has any kick to it. And it does." 

The band came on stage, and the entire arena started screaming happily at their arrival. They waved to everyone and got their guitars ready for their performance. During the excitement, Tom and I pushed our way through the punk teenagers to get to the ones we saw earlier with the drugs.

Tom made instant friends by asking if they were having a good time.

"The best, man!" One of them said excitedly. He introduced himself as Crow. His hair was bright red, shaved on the sides, and styled in a sharp Mohawk.

"You know, my girl and I drove all the way from Brooklyn for this show," Tom said in a thick Brooklyn accent. I was never very good at accents so I kept my mouth shut.

"Hope Metropolis has treated you well," Crow said.

"We just wish we had a little extra something, you know?" Tom said and rubbed his nose.

Crow immediately understood and he nodded. "Y'all wanna little score?"

"We can buy here?" I asked, sounding more like I was from Queens than Brooklyn.

"You bet."

"You know, the other day I was at my drug dealers place. I'm embarrassed to say that I was there to buy drugs," Tom started rambling with a story.

"You don't say," I said cheekily, interrupting him.

Tom's dark eyes playfully glared at me and he continued his story. "He said that they got some good stuff coming out of this venue."

"Oh, yeah. Real good stuff. You ain't cops are ya?" Crow asked jokingly. Even in the dark I noticed his dilated pupils and he sniffed hard like he had a runny nose.

Tom and I started chuckling. Tom said, "no. Why would cops be at a concert like this?"

He shrugged. "Better be safe than sorry." He turned around and called out to a friend, "Blades! C'mere!"

Another punk kid waltzed up to us and Crow left us alone with Blades while a bunch of punk kids were still screaming at the band as they began their first song. We had to scream in order to hear anything over the music.

"What do you need? The show is about to start." He sounded impatient.

"Heard you got blow." Tom chomped his gum.

"We wanna buy," I added, leaning towards them against Tom.

He looked us up and down and nodded. He opened his jean jacket vest and pulled out a couple little bags of a white substance.

"$135," Blades said, shaking the bags of drugs at us. He had burn marks on his hands and around his lips, an indication that he had used recently.

"$135?" Tom asked, reaching into his back pocket to grab his wallet. "Seems a little steep, Huh?"

"Man, I'm losing money from this," Blades said. He urged Tom to move faster.

"Will this about cover it?" Tom asked, handing Blades a $10 bill.

"This a joke, man?" Blades crumpled it up in his hand as he yelled over the music, "$135."

"How about this?" Tom asked and pulled out his badge. Blades face dropped and I showed him my badge too, along with the handcuffs I had at my belt. I spun them around my finger, letting him gaze at the metal handcuffs.

Tom turned him around and pinned his hands behind his back while he was cursing at us. I handcuffed him and made a path for Tom to pull him through of the crowd and out of the arena. Tom read him his rights, and we put him in the back of the cruiser. Tom searched him and pulled out a burnt spoon, razor blades, and a plastic baggy out of his pockets.

"I don't think my brain is going to stop rattling," I chuckled once Tom closed the back door to the cruiser on Blades.

"It was intense in there," he said. He smiled at me and said, "we make a pretty good team."

"We do, don't we?" I agreed.

Almost as if it were planned, we high-fived and walked to our respective doors to the car and hopped in to take Blades downtown.