Officer Jones

Chapter 5

Shouts of “John Peter! John Peter!” shocked me back to the present. Unless I was the next contestant on the Price is Right, I had no idea why Lauren was shouting at me with such vigor.

“You promised that our lunch wouldn’t be interrupted,” she chastised.

I found this a little odd coming from someone who’d made three phone calls, sent four texts, and posted a picture of herself on Twitter since we’d arrived. “What are you talking about?”

“Your big slug friend is here.”

“What?”

Before Lauren could answer, I felt the gargantuan arms wrapping around my neck, clamping me in a headlock. It could only be one man.

When he released me from his clutches, and my breathing returned to normal, I looked up to see the smiling man who was once a professional wrestler known as Coldblooded Carter. For longer than I can remember, Jeff Carter has been my scout, confidante, bodyguard, and the man with numerous contacts throughout the world that helped uncover the stories that ratings bonanzas are made of.

“Hope I didn’t interrupt you two lovebirds,” Carter’s booming voice filled the patio.

Lauren looked at him like he was the Ebola Virus. “John Peter and I were discussing our plans for the Fourth of July, and yes, you are interrupting.”

Carter laughed, infuriating her more, before turning his attention back to yours truly. “So what are these big Fourth of July plans, JP?”

Lauren answered for me, “Following my big interview with Lamar Thompson, we are going to spend the holiday with my family in Hilton Head.”

Carter faked a look of interest. “Wow! Meeting the parents-this is a big step, JP.”

“And Hilton Head society,” I added, now also smiling.

Carter flashed his famous sly grin and I could tell he was about to jump off the top rope and drop a flying elbow on her plans.

“Oh, by the way, I forgot to mention that JP won’t be able to attend your family gathering. We have business to attend to.” He tilted his head toward the ground as if he was mourning the dead.

My ears perked up, suddenly interested in the conversation.

Lauren boiled over. This had happened before. “John Peter,” she addressed me like a mother scolding a child.

I shrugged, as if unable to stop the inevitable.

“You have a choice, John Peter-me, or that big slug. If you walk away from this table we’re over.”

Carter picked me up like a rag doll and slung me over his shoulder. “He’s not walking away … I’m carrying him.”

A rumble of laughter erupted from the other patrons. From my perch, I caught a glance of Bridget, who was unable to fight off a smile.

Carter carried me out of the patio area to a chorus of, “John Peter, get back here!”

Finally on the bustling sidewalk, he set me down.

“Thanks, I think you saved my life,” I said, meaning every word.

Carter laughed. “I have three ex-wives-I can sense when a man needs to get six time-zones away.”