Being My Brother-in-law's Wife (Old version)

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Yellow spills into the baby blue sky and immediately sends a jackhammer drilling into my skull. The exhaustion and aching bestowed upon me is nothing I have ever endured before, acting like a thick blanket preventing me from escaping its gripping embrace. My fingers reach out to my bedside table and instead of finding my old lava lamp from high school; a cool marble surface bites the pad of my fingers with its cold.

Odd, by now my alarm clock with have shrilled with that SZA tune and my phone wasn’t anywhere around me either. I shift in the sheets, throwing my arm around carelessly until my bones burn underneath my skin after making contact with a hard yet warm object. Delicately, I trace around the object and my heart jolts in my chest when I find a hard, impressively defined abdomen – wait, 1, 2...6! – And matching biceps.

Gingerly, I unravel my curly head from the sheets and eyes matching the pastel blue walls with black trimmings twinkle with mischief. Instinctively, I throw the cover over my head before screwing my eyes shut. In no time I would’ve escaped this hot dream and I’ll be walking up in my cold tiny bed that is indeed meant for one person. After opening my eyes I decide to peep up again but the male has now changed position, leaning on his propped arm as he gazes down at me, almost in humor?

I dive down again and this time I see cherry red stains splayed across the white sheets like a miniature version of the Japan national flag. So this wasn’t insanity or some dream I could escape from, this was real.

Caro, your perm has to be one of the most adorable sights I’ve ever had in my bed.”

There’s been more? Why the hell not? The male is obviously well built, more like ripped and huge. Another thing I should ponder on, I had that inside of me and I didn’t die?

“Not much of a talker,” he sighs deliberately before I feel the sting of the cold biting my skin after he tugs the blanket off me “now would you look at that. Such a micio.”


“Look at it;” one soft voice mutters with so much sadness “shouldn’t being a virgin at twenty four be illegal?”

I haul myself out of my thoughts before finding two sets of eyes. The first pair was wide and swallowing, like the incandescent ocean. The second pair was the colour of heated caramel and almond-shaped yet vague. Blair and Walter, the two most annoying and loud human beings to have ever walked this world, were gazing at me in sadness. I love these two human beings, even though they make me want to pummel my head against the wall every time they speak but I adore them immensely.

“Good day peasants,” I smile repulsively sweet at Walter with that lisp I’ve had forever now before winking at Blair “what could you two possibly want?”

Blair, my fiery red-headed best friend smiles cheekily at me before sauntering over to my office chair and placing her cute bottom on my lap, “How could you possibly live without coitus?”

“I’m not addicted like you,” I retort impudently and Walter himself finds a seat on my other lap while wiggling himself into comfort “nor you.” I spit irately at my blonde-haired British pal.

Walter’s fist clenches to his chest in mock hurt and he pouts sadly at me, “how dare you suggest such about me? ”

I love this British handsome devil of mine, even though we are strong in contrast but I think that’s what brought us together.

“Because, uh, I don’t know...maybe because I’m right?”

“You know,” Walter trails off purposely while toying with the ends of my straightened hair “I could always hook you up.”

“Absolutely not,” I bellow escaping Walter’s slim fingers as he pinches my cheeks “you acquaint yourself with the weirdest people.”

“Edward was not so bad,” Walter taunts with squinted hazel eyes but Blair just had to burst out in laughter “Edward wanted to suck Jae’s toes on the first date. Sure, he wasn’t so bad.”

“Jaenelle!” a deep voice roars into the hallway and my two chums excuse themselves to go back to their posts.

One of them was a pretty red-haired sight at the front office while the other was dealing with petty crimes like stealing milk at a conventional supermarket.

“Jaenelle!” the voice calls, now more impatient and I grumble shuffling to Chief’s office.

I cow quite easily and as a matter of fact, Chief always points this out by reminding me that I’m behind the scenes because of this. But wouldn’t one feel intimidated if dark beady eyes scrutinize everything you do? I can’t even freaking fart in public without having him shake his head disapprovingly at me. Not – not that I’d fart in public though.

“As you know, Daniel has taken some time off work for some personal reinvention,” a small smile spreads across my lips as I gaze attentively at the stout man “so I need you to go out to the gallery for me.”

I couldn’t help the smile that played the main character on my lips and I could see the mirrored glint in Chief’s eyes. He knows how long I’ve waited for this, six whole years of being under Daniel Martinez’s wing and profiling DNA even though I could deliver so much more than what he put on the table. This is finally my break through, this is what I’ve been working towards and to be honest, I couldn’t be happier.

“I won’t let you down, Chief,” my smile widens into a grin as I hoist myself up “I’ll go down to Room B34 to get dressed.”

“You did well with the,” he gestures the area around his head awkwardly but I caught on quickly – the hair. I tamed the mane called my hair and although it’s not me, it gives me the exterior I want to portray.


I smile shyly at the compliment, he’s never quite given me a compliment before and it’s nice to receive one “Thanks, Chief.”

I wasn’t used to this whole ‘disposable overalls and boot covers’ thing professional forensic investigators have going on. The PPE includes as a minimum: latex gloves (double gloving when dealing with DNA evidence), face mask, hat if we’re working outside, protective goggles as required. I mean, I looked like a bear stuffed in latex then rolled in plastic.

Do I regret it?

Not one bit.

The scene was gory and even though I thought I couldn’t stomach it, I managed to and I was even able to snap a few pictures. A male, estimated to be somewhere in his early to his late twenties, had at least twenty stab wounds and knuckle imprints on his fine jaw. Unfortunately, his eyes were open during this whole ordeal, resulting in cold silver and emotionless pools.

The fine bristles of my brush dusted around the perimeter where the comatose body lay and I photographed images of footprints and fingerprints, which oddly – were nearly nonexistent. I crouch down and examine the corpse, so many violent impacts have been inflicted upon the body yet no single strand of thin hair could be found. Could this murder have been premeditated? No. It couldn’t have been because it’s rather messy and gory...unless that was the motive the killer was looking for.

“We’ve seen a whole lot worse.” a voice mutters behind me and tilting my head, my eyes fixate on a certain bulge, an impressive bulge.

“Mind not looking at my crotch babe?”

My cheeks flame furiously as I hoist myself up before bowing my head apologetically, “Forgive me Sir, it was right in front of me, and uhm...”

“Agent DeLuca,” he smiles easily, his warm chocolate eyes twinkling as he flashes his FBI badge to me “this is gritty.”

“Uh yeah,” the heat spread to my neck “I’m not one to stare but it’’s a good-looking crotch.”

A hearty laugh leaves his lips and I was nearly frightened. Could I have possibly made a white man smile? Heavens, I’m not one of those black females who live in a grey society because I know very well that whites don’t approve of us and we offer the same.

“You’re a cute thing with the whole lisp thing you’ve got going on and probably not ugly when all your uniform leaves that body so what’s your name?”

My breath kicks into my throat and my eyes widen involuntarily. This is not the scenario I had planned out in my head and trust me, it wasn’t a pretty one. By now, Agent DeLuca would’ve walked away with a panicked expression.

“Lakeisha,” I lie smoothly while eyeing his dirty blonde cropped hairstyle “Lakeisha Duckett.”

“Well,” Agent DeLuca advances to me, his 5′9 stature towering over my 5′6 average frame and I feel something thin slip into my latex gloves “call me, Lakeisha.”

Nathaniel. That is his name next to his phone numbers.


“C’mon Jae,” Blair huffs angrily as she tries to gain on my speed by I’m in no state to stop “I’m not a fitness junkie like you.”

After leaving high school I discovered ways in which to stay healthy, one of them including an exercise and diet plan Chief gave out to all junior members of the team. I try to maintain a healthy frame for my age, although I still see my body as a ghost of my former self in high school but I may have gone overboard a few times.

I span on my heel and encourage Blair to gain her pace so that I could go home and conduct a hypothesis regarding the evidence we gathered yesterday. Blair’s bosoms, which I’ve been deprived of, bounce into her face as she tries reach out for me. Honestly, Blair doesn’t need all the exercise because a full chest plus awesome pins equals summoned hotties from Greece.

My back collides with a built frame and I lose stability instantly, resulting in a quick dive to the ground. However, an inch before the cool grass of Marten Park, steady arms helped me prevent a scrapped face. Gently, I’m eased back on my feet properly before meeting the chocolate eyes.

“Hi,” he breathes after gazing far too deeply in my eyes and I notice the freckles sprinkled on his nose “Lakeisha.”

“Jae!” Blair groans walking to me with a thin film of sweat lining her perky chest “this thing is not for me, pudding cup. Well hello,”

Oh right, where are my manners?

“Uhm, Blair, meet Nathaniel DeLuca,” I gesture to the grinning Nathaniel and my heart did somersaults in my chest “Nathan, meet Blair Armel.”

“Now, what are you two beautiful women doing in the park late this evening?”

I’m pretty sure the beautiful compliment was directed to Blair and even someone with one operational eye could see that Blair was swooning over Nathaniel’s accent. I’ve heard a much deeper and thicker accent before but the place fails to come to mind at the moment.

“Just jogging and...stuff.”

Nathaniel flashes me his pearly whites and I gaze at them as if they were an astronomical new discovery, I’m picking so many similarities that I know I’ve experienced somewhere.

“Well, I’d appreciate a call one of these days Lakeisha,” Blair arches a neatly plucked brow and interjects into the conversation “where on earth is your cute head getting Lakeisha from?”

“That’s my name,” I grit each and every word as subtly as I could “right, Blair?”

“Jaenelle. Her name is Jaenelle and we call her Jae for short,” if I had a bottle of holy water then I would be drowning this witch in a pool of it right now “here’s her number as well.”

Screw the holy water; I’m decapitating her after Nathaniel has left.

“Well, nice to meet you Jae,” Nathaniel accelerates my anger when he mimics my lisp while studying my digits scribbled with blank ink on his arm “we’ll be chatting quite soon.”

After Nathaniel jogs away with that cute behind of his, I turn to Blair is a fist on my hip and the angriest look I could muster.

“So, shall it be on a wooden plank or a steel bar?”

Blair seems perplexed at the moment and blinks her wide eyes at me, “what?”

“Your head.”

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