Disclaimer: I do own anything of Sue Grafton's including the Kinsey Millhone Series and Mr. Cheney Philips.
By: Santiva Potter
Summary: A short insight from one of Cheney's admirders. Set after R is for Riccohet.
Enter Twilight moment here.
Expect without all of that slow motion crap that the movie brought and the background music that's supposed to make your heart pound in erratic anticipation for everyone's favorite vampire.
Oh my god, It's Edward Cullen!
Oh Sweet Mother, it's Cheney.
Not Dick. God no, not Dick, but Cheney Philips. Tall, handsome, delicious Cheney Philips.
I don't know what I wouldn't give for his attention, as pathetic as that sounds. But trust me, even the angry feminist shrews of the world would drop their skirts—excuse me, pants for Mr. Adonis.
He's standing across the foyer of this crowded airport with one sculptured arm wrapped around the slim waist of a small brunette. She's not even that pretty, but her persistent and "tell it like it is" attitude is undoubtedly the reason why the pair of them are attached to the hip. Why else would he want a private investigator? He's a cop after all! But nonetheless, he's with her and I'm with him—the invisible him that screams: yes world, she is single.
Thank you Kinsey Millhone, you've been a real doll.
I supposed in retrospect Cheney and I were never truly an "item". He's one of those men that you tend to appreciate from afar. I had been training to be a police officer when we met. It was during one of the many, and ill-fated training sessions that Cheney watched my performance and finally pulled me aside to give me a few pointers.
"This really isn't your thing is it?" he smiled, when it was evident that I was not going to pick this up.
Now I'm sure that would have offended most women, but how could I be upset with the truth? It really hadn't been my thing.
He's moving closer now, grinning wickedly at her. She rolls her eyes as he whispers something before going for the kill.
Congratulations Cheney Philips, you have been released from my hopefuls list.
I notice now that only Ms. Millhone is surrounded by luggage and when he breaks the kiss, she swings one of the leather suitcases over her shoulder and heads off for her gate—not before snagging another kiss from Cheney of course.
I would have followed him out of the airport and tried to catch up with him. It would have been idyllic and completely cliché: the woman you barely remember "catching up" with you at the airport.
Besides it would have also been useless. I know a taken man when I see one and Cheney Philips and Kinsey Millhone are on planet of their own—and I heard a tiny little rumor that she throws one hell of a right punch.
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