April 1990

All of us Jump Street officers were gathered around the television screen, with disgusted and confused looks across all of our faces. We had notebooks in our hands, scribbling down whatever we could remember from the bust we had just made together.

The bust involved drugs that enhance sexual performance. Whoever was making this drug and selling it, had made erotic pornographic videos as a way to market to college guys into taking it. We were forced to watch all of them and record who the individuals in the videos were, why they were made, and how. There was an influx of erectile dysfunction in Metro's emergency room paired with lethal heart issues in high schoolers and college guys so we had to jump in and investigate.

"This is so weird," Doug stated. He made an air bubble in his mouth and blew it out between his lips as he wrote something down in his paper relating to the case.

"Yeah," Tom agreed with an exasperated sigh.

"I can't believe we have to watch all of these videos," Judy grimaced.

"Why is this something that we have to do?" I mumbled.

"I feel dirty," Ioki groaned, he was practically covering his eyes the whole time.

Collectively, all of our heads cocked to the side at the same time, trying to view it from a different angle the moment the two individuals in the tape decided to switch to a different, nearly impossible position. The only thing I can say to describe it, is that whoever that girl is, is insanely flexible.

"How?" Doug asked. He almost sounded impressed.

"That cannot be comfortable," Judy winced.

I didn't even think, I just blurted, "trust me, it isn't."

In the moment those words left my mouth I tensed up. My eyes widened and my hand gripped my pen tightly as everyone turned slowly to look at me. I was mortified. My eyes shot over at Tom, who was turning as red as a tomato. Whoops.

"I think I've got everything I need," I stated as I quickly stood up and retreated back to my desk.

"Yep," Ioki instantly agreed.

"Turning it off," Doug stated. He leaned over and turned the screen off and got the tape out. He put it back in its bag, where that and all the other tapes would be going into evidence along with our notes.

Everyone was going back to their desks to finish up their reports. I heard the office door open, so I looked over to see Fuller walking out of his office.

"Yo, autograph!" I called out from my desk and held my paper up in the air. Fuller came walking by and took the paper from me to sign it.

"Finished the reports from Sagan High?" He asked as he scribbled on the page using his hand as a surface.

"Yeah," I said and he handed me the paper back.

"Great. I've got another assignment for you," he said. Then he lifted his head up slightly to call out, "you guys all finish those tapes?"

Tom's high pitched voice was the only one to answer, "yep."

"Great, I want all of your notes back so we can send them into evidence."

"You got it, coach," Doug said followed by the clearing of his throat.

"Hanson!" Fuller called out.

"Yeah?" Tom asked from his desk while eating peanut butter out of a jar. I leaned back in my chair and rolled my pencil between my fingers as I looked at Fuller and Tom.

"You play the saxophone, right?" Fuller asked him.

"Yes, sir," Tom nodded.

"Great. Saxophones have been going missing at Hamilton High School and I want you two to figure out where they're going," Fuller told us. He held up our folders and said, "heads up," before tossing them to us. I caught mine in the air and opened it up to quickly scan it. He excused us from the chapel before going to Ioki, Doug, and Judy to give them their assignments.

As I was grabbing my purse and my coat, Tom stuck around our little costume department on the other side of the chapel.

"Whatcha doing?" I asked as I approached him and spun my car keys around my finger. We usually drive separately to the chapel and to our assignments because we never know when we will have to separate, and not having a car at Jump Street is nearly impossible.

"I'm gonna change," he told me as he pulled out a plaid button up shirt from the wrack with his free hand. He shook his head softly, almost as if to himself, and he put the shirt back. In his other hand, he held the peanut butter jar.

"All right. I'll meet you there," I said.

"Okey-dokey," he said. Just as I was about to turn around, he stopped me by saying, "wait."

"What?" I asked, still facing him.

He looked down at his peanut butter and pulled out the spoon which had a little mound of the smooth spread. He said, "you didn't eat breakfast this morning. Eat, you need protein."

I almost rolled my eyes, but I knew he was serious. He raised his eyebrows and brought the spoon closer to my mouth. I opened my mouth to accept the peanut butter. He spoon fed it to me and it was hard not to laugh. I thanked him with my mouth full of the sticky peanut butter, and then I ran out to my car.

I wished I had packed a water bottle to take with me to school, because the peanut butter made me thirsty. I quickly got over the feeling after I swallowed all the peanut butter, and I turned on the radio to listen to some rock music, but the school was not that far away.

I sat in the parking lot for just a couple minutes before I saw Tom's iconic Mustang drive into the parking lot. I turned my car off and put my keys in my the pocket of my vest as I grabbed my backpack and stepped out of the car.

I met Tom outside of his and we began walking to the office together. I looked at his outfit of a white collar shirt and black suspenders with plaid socks that disappeared behind his checkered pants. I joked, "you look like a band nerd. It kinda fits you."

"Just because it's a fake backstory doesn't mean it doesn't hurt my feelings," he said. He couldn't help but snicker which made his fake thick glasses slide down the bridge of his nose, and he used his finger to push them back up.

My assignment said that I was just supposed to blend in and act as background, so I wore what I was already wearing. I wore a white blouse with a wide winged collar, and I had the sleeves cuffed. Over that I had an open blue vest with pockets, and a pair of pink floral print pants. It was perfect for springtime, and there wasn't a particular stereotype I needed to fit into.

We went into the high school office and we were given mostly musical classes. We both had the same class period for band, because it's the saxophones that are getting stolen.

The teacher welcomed us in and we took seats at the back of the classroom. Everyone was getting their instruments ready to play for the class period, and organized their sheet music on the black music stands. A music stand was passed down for me and Tom to share, but we didn't have instruments to play with or even sheet music.

The teacher made an announcement as soon as the bell rang about how almost all the saxophones in the class were gone, and if anyone had any information on where they are going, we are supposed to come forward.

I had my eyes out for any suspicious behavior. My hunch told me that whatever is happening to the saxophones, the person responsible was in that room with us.

As luck would have it, I zeroed in on a conversation taking place right in front of us. One kid asked another, "do you still have the stash?"

The stash? Are we going to have to deal with a drug dealer at this school too? I leaned in softly to listen better and dug through my backpack to try to act busy.

The kid answered, "yeah, I got the saxes in my car. You need one?"

"Yeah, how does an even $100 sound?" The other asked.

I sat back in my chair and leaned toward Tom and whispered, "did you hear that?"

"Yeah, I'm sitting right here," Tom responded sarcastically.

I softly tapped the kids shoulder and asked, "is it true that you sell saxophones?"

He turned back at me and pushed his black hair off of his forehead. He rested his arm on the back of his chair and said, "yeah, I do. Keep your voice down."

"I've been looking for one," I said in a low voice.

"I only sell to musicians," he said in a snappy tone.

"I am a musician," I said matter-of-factly. In reality, I'm the furthest from a musician. I played the violin in middle school because I was forced, but I never practiced and I forged every signature I was supposed to get from my guardian that proved that I practiced at home. It's been almost nine years since I have picked up an instrument, but I figured that this little lie was not going to bite me in the ass, it's not like he was going to make me prove it.

"Prove it."

Shit.

"How?" I asked cluelessly. I was really hoping that he was going to take my word for it. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Tom cover his smile with his hand.

"Play, right now," he said.

"Fine, I will," I said emptily. We were starting class, so I figured that I would have time to come up with some excuse by the end of the period to make some sort of transaction so we could arrest him.

He raised his hand in the air and said, "Mrs. Morrison?"

"Yes, Brandon?" The teacher asked after her little lecture.

"Mickey wants to play solo," Brandon said. My heart fell to my stomach and I immediately felt nervous. This was not what I wanted, nor planned.

"Oh, Mickey, that's great! What are you going to play for us?" She asked. I later found out that at the beginning of every class, Mrs. Morrison has two or three students play a solo song that they've been working on at home in front of everyone. Since Brandon ever-so graciously volunteered me, I was the first to go. It also didn't help that the school was told that I was the main solo performer at my old school, and I'm sure that Mrs. Morrison was well aware of that.

One of the last school saxophones was passed to me, and I awkwardly grabbed it with a soft smile and I stood up to walk to the front of the class. I scanned the room to try to calm my anxiety, and I saw Tom smile at me supportively as he chewed his gum. He looked like he was going to enjoy this.

"I'm gonna play... Mary Had a Little Lamb," I said. It was the first song that came to mind. I don't even know if that song can be played on a saxophone... I'm sure it can, but I don't know how to.

"Go ahead whenever you're ready," Mrs. Morrison said.

I looked to Tom for encouragement, and he smiled and gave me a thumbs up. I put the mouthpiece between my lips and blew, and I blacked out. I sounded terrible, and it didn't help that my breathing was uneven and I was beginning to wheeze from my asthma because I did not use my inhaler. The tones were thin, and I hesitated on every note that was wrong anyway. I scooped up for pitch with no musical reason, and the vibrato was uneven. I don't know what any of these mean, but that's exactly what the teacher told me when I was finished... in front of everyone.

I should have been embarrassed, but I found it more fun and entertaining than serious. The teacher instructed everyone to clap, and I gazed out to the class and saw Tom clapping at me sarcastically, but with support.

He whipped a white handkerchief out of his pocket and dabbed his eyes humorously and continued clapping at my dreadful performance.

"Thank you, thank you," I bowed extravagantly and the teacher glared at me and held her hand out. I sheepishly handed her the saxophone back, and giggled as I galloped back to sit next to Tom.

He said in a low voice so only I could hear, "if you play that at our wedding, there won't be a dry eye in the room."

I hesitated before I responded. We have never really talked about getting married. My mouth morphed into a dumb smile that didn't wipe off. Before I could respond, Brandon turned back to me and said, "yeah, you can't buy one." Then he turned to Tom and asked, "what about you? You got the lungs?"

Tom volunteered to go next to perform in front of the class, and the teacher cleaned the saxophone that I used before she handed it to him. He waddled up to the front of the class that reminded me of the way Steve Urkle walks before he looked down at the instrument and fiddled with the keys on the body of the brass instrument. He took a quick breath before he put the mouthpiece between his lips and began playing.

He was amazing! I was dumbfounded as I listened to his soft and smooth notes. I've heard him play guitar, and I thought he was really good at that. I knew he played the saxophone, but I had never heard him before so I didn't know how he sounded. He expressed the notes so well, and he played so warmly. I could listen to him all day.

Mrs. Morrison had nothing but great things to say about Tom and his playing. He got flustered which made me giggle softly. He thanked her and headed back to his seat. Brandon turned back at him and said, "you can get as many saxes as you want."

"That sounds like a code for a sex thing." Tom chuckled awkwardly and looked down at his hands. He doesn't project his talents very often because he gets embarrassed. He has never been a fan of having all the attention on him. I don't think he should feel embarrassed though, he needs to take advantage of his gifts.

I pretended to act busy by digging though my bag again as another kid went up to play a song that he has been rehearsing at his home as Tom and Brandon discussed Tom purchasing a saxophone from him later. They set up a time to meet after school, and after class Tom relayed to me the plan.

After school, I hide behind a locker as Tom and Brandon walked up into the music room to complete the exchange. Once they got inside, I quietly ran to the door and I pressed my back to the wall, and I strained my ears to hear what was going on inside to see when I could get in there.

I only had to wait a couple minutes before I found my opening and I seized my opportunity. I opened the door just in time to see Tom take one of the saxophones as Brandon pocketed the money that Tom gave him.

Brandon turned back to me after he heard the door open and his face morphed to anger, "what are you doing here? You're not part of this transaction. Scram."

I silently walked up beside Tom and put my hand in my pocket and pulled out my badge. I held it up to my face as I smiled at Brandon and pointed between myself and Tom, and his face dropped. The criminal realizing that we are undercover cops had always been my favorite part of the bust.

"Come on, Brandon, get one the ground," Tom ordered.

I inspected Brandon's body language and said, "he's gonna run."

Tom scoffed, "no, he won't,"

Brandon looked at us fleetingly and said, "it's really—" but then he took off out the music room.

Tom groaned, "he's running."

"Told you."

Tom and I sprinted after him, and we chased him down the halls and finally out the door. As we were running around the building, trying to catch this kid, I could hear him cackling, "ooop! Oh-ho-ho-ho! You fast, bruh, but you ain't fast enoughhhhh!"

"Your ass is mine, Brandon!" Tom shouted at him.

I stopped in my tracks but Tom kept chasing him. I saw which way Brandon was going, so I booked it back into the school and jumped out in front of him on the other side.

He screamed and his shoes slid on the cement as he tried to stop. Tom was catching up, and Brandon put his hands on his knees to catch his breath. He lifted one finger up at me and said, "I'm a feminist! I just want you to know."

"Get on the ground, Brandon," I said.

"By the way, you ain't get me. I got you," he said breathlessly. He stood up and started making his way towards me slowly. I rarely have my taser on me, but I did today so I pointed it at him. I aimed the red dot on his chest, mostly just to scare him. I hate using the taser because I know how painful it is. Brandon got down on his knees and he said, still out of breath, "I'm hot. Don't tase me, that shit—that shit... that shit stings."

Tom came up beside me and asked, "want me to make the bust or you?"

"Go ahead, cuffs are in my pocket," I said.

Tom didn't hesitate to slip his hand into my pocket and pulled out the handcuffs while my hands still gripped the taser.

"My safe word is pineapple juice. You get that?" Brandon asked as he got down to his stomach and put his hands behind his back.

"Just like that, now cross your ankles," Tom ordered. When Brandon obeyed, he said, "bring your ankles up to your butt."

"Police man, what's my safe word?" Brandon asked.

"Bring your ankles up to your butt," Tom instructed again, ignoring Brandon's antics.

"That's how far I go! You think I'm in pilates?" Brandon asked sarcastically.

"Stay just like that," Tom said.

I did not tase him, but I made the taser go off just to scare him. He screamed, then when he realized that he wasn't in any pain he asked, "fuck are you doing?!"

I just thought it would be kind of funny.

Tom came up behind Brandon and sat down on his ankles, pressing them to his butt and he handcuffed him and began to search his pockets. Brandon's voice quivered and he said, "ooo. Uh, that's cute. Watch your hands, boy!" Tom pulled out a lighter from his pocket and Brandon said, "no, no, don't do that, that's my, that's my lighter. It don't work. Don't do drugs, kids!"

It was so difficult for me not to laugh, and I could see Tom sprouting a smile as he continued to search his pockets. When he started pulling out coins, Brandon said, "those are my quarters, wanna put those in your pocket—" Tom dropped the coins to the ground and Brandon's tone flipped instantly, "—THAT IS CHANGE! You know how long it took me to acquire those?! Some of those are limited edition!"

The next object that Tom took out was a brown wallet.

"That's my wallet! You have no—ooouuu." Brandon was interrupted by Tom continuing to seize everything from Brandon's pockets. "And watch your fingers, booty hole man," Brandon said. Tom grabbed a hold of Brandon's body to roll him over and Brandon said, "he strong. No wonder y'all together. You two like doing the... weird shit? Huh? What's your safe word?"

I heard Tom chuckle and in the lowest voice say, "we don't have one."

Brandon had a field day with that. "Shit! You two are freaky, huh? Want a third?"

I put my taser away and had to bite my lips together to stop from making any sort of noises that would tell Brandon that I was about to laugh. I had to stay professional, but he was making it so difficult.

When Tom completed his search, I helped him get Brandon to his feet. Brandon groaned and rolled his head around as Tom got a good grip on him to escort him out of the school.

I walked beside him and Tom said to me, "I can take him downtown if you want to get started on the paperwork."

I could nearly gag at the word.

I scoffed, "you wish. How about I take him downtown and you can start on the paperwork."

Tom's face scrunched at my proposal. Doing paperwork for the bust takes forever and it's incredibly boring. I slid my hands over Tom's to take his place, and he furrowed his eyebrows at me and flared his nostrils. He looked down at me and he rose his chin and said flatly, "no."

"Yes," I said.

"No."

"Yes," I said again firmly.

"Pineapple juice," he stated. "That's my safe word."

"I thought we didn't have one?" I asked with a snarky tone.

He kept looking at me, trying to look serious but a smile was sliding across his features. He shook his head to try to control his expression and he said, "fine. But I decide dinner tonight."

I figured that was a fair trade, but I said, "just not Pizza Haven, please."

"I like Pizza Haven," Brandon interrupted us.

"I don't care," I let escape my lips.

Tom said stubbornly, "I might just want that tonight."

"Out of spite?" I chuckled.

He hesitated before he answered, "yes."

"Then you might just be eating alone tonight," I joked. I'm glad that we have the same sense of humor, because I can really have fun and joke around with him without being afraid of offending him.

Tom grinned at me and said, "I'll see you tonight."

"See you," I said back and his hands slipped from Brandon's cuffs and mine took their place.

I escorted Brandon to my car and shut the door. I hopped into the drivers seat and followed Tom's Mustang out of the parking lot. I drove to the station, while Tom drove to get a jump on the paperwork at Jump Street.

I hope you enjoyed! 💗💗