Undercover Best Friend: A Tale of Age Regression

By August D. Adams

Tired of being overlooked and underappreciated, Allison Parker, a young petite police officer, eagerly jumps at an opportunity to prove her worth. However, the undercover operation for which she volunteers turns out to be a lot more than she bargained for when she finds out she's headed back to grade school...as a student! Tasked with befriending the daughter of a ruthless crime lord, Allison finds herself trapped in the life of a little girl as she struggles to navigate her way through a childish landscape filled with homework, bullies, dolls, sleepovers and a seemingly never-ending barrage of embarrassing outfits. Filled with twists and turns, 'Undercover Best Friend' explores just how far Allison is willing to go to get the job done. Can she complete her mission and reclaim her adulthood or is she doomed to repeat most of her childhood?

• Language: English
• Publisher: August D. Adams
• Release date: Jun 22, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463700433

Book preview

Undercover Best Friend

A Tale of Age Regression

By August D. Adams

Copyright 2018

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Chapter One

Fifteen minutes left.

Half an hour left.

Forty five minutes.

Ten minutes.

I heaved a sigh as I strolled down the city sidewalk scanning the long row of parking meters, adjusting my police uniform cap to shade my eyes from the glaring afternoon sun.

When I had decided to become a cop, this hadn't exactly been what I'd had in mind. I mean, I wasn't naive. I knew it would be an uphill battle due to my short stature and small build, that I'd have to work twice, if not three times as hard to rise through the ranks, but, even so, it had been almost a whole year since I'd graduated from the academy and I was still being assigned parking meter duty on an almost daily basis. Every once and a while I'd get to sit in a squad car at a designated speed trap or direct traffic or babysit a road work crew, but those weren't exactly much more exciting or prestigious jobs either. I was starting to think that my dream of one day becoming a homicide detective was going to remain just that, a dream.

If only they'd just give me a chance, treat me like any other rookie cop, then they'd see what I was really capable of, that, despite appearances, I wasn't some dainty little blond princess that couldn't handle herself in a tough situation. I may have looked cute and innocent, but I was anything but. I had thought my stellar performance at the police academy had more than proven that. After all, I had aced my final shooting exam, almost achieving a perfect score, the highest damn score in the entire rookie class. But had that mattered? Nope. All anyone saw when they looked at me was a tiny nonthreatening girl, not exactly the type of police officer you wanted to assign to a dangerous beat. Apparently the phrase looks can be deceiving didn't mean a whole lot to the top brass at the station.

And so there I was walking the streets checking meters and writing parking tickets once again, hardly the kind of police work I had dreamed of performing when I'd first joined the force. I hadn't signed up to be a god damn meter maid! I wanted to make a difference, catch some bad guys, make the streets a cleaner, safer place. I had always envisioned myself making drug busts, catching perps, taking down violent gang members, solving murders, stuff like that. Instead, I was standing on the sidewalk writing a ticket for some douchebag with a BMW who had parked in a handicapped space.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw a well-dressed man jogging out of the nearby sandwich shop, clearly headed in my direction. I knew exactly what was coming, as I'd been through this same exact routine countless times before.

Hey! Hey! Hey! he called out to me, frantically waving his hand as he approached.

I glanced in his direction, noting his expensive business suit, and then went right back to writing the ticket. It was almost always the rich types who tended to ignore handicap and no parking signs, as if their wealth meant they should be allowed to do whatever they wanted.

Sidling up next to me, he employed an excuse I'd heard plenty of times before, I've only been in there for like two minutes.

Giving him an unamused look, I replied, "This is your car?"

Yeah, he confirmed. I've only been in there for like two minutes, he repeated. Can't you just cut me a break?

You're parked in a handicap space, was my unsympathetic reply as I continued to write the ticket with no intention of stopping no matter what he said.

There were no other parking spaces around here, he complained as if that made any difference.

Stone-faced, I replied, That's not an excuse.

Oh, come on! he kept whining, apparently not knowing when to quit. I was only in there for like two minutes!

More often than not I was willing to grant people a little slack, letting them off the hook if their meter expired only five minutes or so before they got back to their car, but non-handicapped people parking in handicap spaces had always been a pet-peeve of mine, even before I'd become a cop. As of yet, I'd never let anyone off the hook for it and I wasn't about to start now.

I don't care if you were only in there for five seconds, I replied as I ripped the ticket from my pad and held it out to him. Handicap spaces are for handicap people.

Glaring at me, he snatched the ticket out of my hand. Trying to meet your quota again, eh? he grumbled as he looked it over.

I wasn't in the mood to get into it with him. Look, buddy, I'm just doing my job.

Yeah, well my taxes--- he began to say.

Knowing exactly where this was going, I quickly cut him off, Pay my salary. Yeah, I've heard it all before. You got a problem with the ticket, contest it in court. And if you want to avoid getting another one, stop parking in handicap spaces. That really shouldn't be too difficult.

I turned and began walking away, only to come very close to turning right back around and writing him another ticket when I heard him mutter, Bitch, under his breath. However, as difficult as it was, I bit my tongue and kept on my way, deciding that it simply wasn't worth it. I still had another few hours of checking parking meters ahead of me and spending any more of it listening to some rich douche complain about a ticket he deserved to get wouldn't make them go by any faster. Besides, chances were I had at least a few more similar encounters to look forward to before the day was done. Stuff like this was pretty much a regular everyday occurrence for me.

By the time my shift was finally over, my feet were killing me. I wouldn't have minded nearly as much if it was because I'd spent all day chasing down criminals or serving warrants or following up on some sort of important investigation. Feeling exhausted simply because I had spent all day walking around checking parking meters just felt embarrassing, hence why I never complained about it to any of my fellow officers. Not that some of them didn't give me shit about my humiliatingly humdrum daily assignments anyway.

Case in point, Officers Murphy and Rogers, probably the two biggest assholes in the whole precinct, both of whom I had had the misfortune of making acquaintances with at the academy, all three of us having been in the same rookie class. Unlike me however, they hadn't encountered any problems getting assigned tougher, more respected posts during their first year. They both seemed on the fast track to getting taken off regular uniform patrol duty and permanently assigned to other departments. Maybe I would have been happy for them if they didn't take every opportunity to be smug pricks whenever we happened to cross paths. It was like neither of them had matured since grade school.

My encounter with them when I returned to the station on this occasion was no different than all the others. The moment they saw me walk through the door, they both smiled like the two immature dicks that they were. Already being in a sour mood, I momentarily considered turning the corner just to avoid them, but ultimately decided against it, knowing that they'd only interpret that as me running away with my tail between my legs. The last thing I was going to do was show any weakness in front of those two buffoons. They were insufferable enough already.

Squaring my shoulders and holding my head high, I walked straight towards them, determined not to let their typical juvenile taunting get to me. Maybe for once they'd just let me pass without acting like a couple of schoolyard bullies. Unlikely.

In a move typical of the two of them, they suddenly stepped in front of the door that led into the locker room, purposefully blocking my path. I swear, every time I bumped into them it was like I'd suddenly been transported back to grade school. Having been bullied by much larger girls back then, I was more than used to such behavior, except now I wasn't intimidated by it, nor afraid to talk back. All it did now was just annoy me.

How's it going, short stuff? Murphy greeted me, smiling down at me with that annoying grin of his that never failed to make me want to slap him upside his head like his parents should have done a lot more while he was growing up.

My diminutive stature was always a favorite target of his. Both he and Rogers were well over a foot taller than me, though that didn't mean very much considering I only measured in at a meager four foot ten. Pretty much everybody in the department was taller than me. However, what I lacked in height I more than made up for in gumption. That's not to say his immature jokes about my short stature didn't irk me though. Murphy just had this knack for getting under your skin.

Rogers was almost as bad, as he well demonstrated when he added his own jab at me, Yeah, how's the city's cutest little meter maid doing? Did you have fun today playing dress up in your cute police uniform?

I rolled my eyes at the stupidity of his comment. We were wearing exactly the same uniform, mine simply being smaller, so I'm not sure what made mine cute and his not.

Glaring up at him, I replied, Shove it, Rogers.

Murphy let out a chuckle, apparently finding my angry response humorous. I was accustomed to such reactions. Most people don't tend to take small, cute girls seriously when they're angry. That could sometimes prove to be a pretty big mistake, which Murphy and Rogers might soon learn if they didn't get out of my way.

Chill out, Parker, Murphy said to me. We're just messing with you. No reason to get your panties all up in a bunch.

Yeah, added Rogers. We have a great deal of respect for all the important contributions you make here. I mean, you're doing such a great job keeping the streets safe from all those deadly double-parkers.

Murphy practically doubled over laughing at his friend's idiotic joke.

Balling my hands into fists, I held back my growing anger, knowing it would only amuse them more if I yelled at them. Look, could you just get out of my way so I can get into the locker room. I'd really just like to take a shower and go home.

Awww, are you tired from writing all those tickets, Murphy continued to mock me. I bet it's killer on the wrist.

Having had about enough of their juvenile taunting, I gave them a stern warning, Laugh it up, dickheads. You're both about five seconds away from me kicking you in the nuts. That's the last thing you need right now, isn't it, Murphy? I gave him a knowing smirk, hoping he'd pick up on what I was hinting at.

Murphy gave me a worried look, nervously shuffling his feet. He tried his best to play it cool, acting as if he didn't know what I was talking about as he sarcastically replied, Nice come back, Parker.

I continued to smirk at him, quite enjoying the sight of him looking so uncomfortable. A few weeks prior, I'd been lucky enough to overhear him talking on his cell phone with his wife about their marital problems, if you know what I mean. Talk about some juicy ammunition! I can't tell you how great it was to finally have some dirt on him. It hadn't been easy, but I'd kept my mouth shut about it ever since, wanting to save it for an occasion such as this.

Oh, come on, Murphy, I said. There's no reason to feel embarrassed about it. So you're having problems getting it up in the bedroom. I've heard a lot of guys have that issue. I smiled as I watched the blood drain from his face. You know, they've got a pill for that. Pretty sure the union health plan covers it too.

Murphy scoffed, trying his best to make it seem like I was just joking. Whatever, Parker. Seeing the suspicious look on his cohort's face, he tried quickly changing the subject. Hey, did you hear Rogers is being assigned to narcotics?

I couldn't hide my surprise. Rogers was far from the sharpest knife in the draw and yet he was apparently off to the narcotics division, while I, a much more competent officer who had trained circles around him at the academy, was still stuck on meter maid duty.

Not wanting to let on just how upset I was about the unexpected news, I meekly smiled and replied, Is that so?

Rogers beamed with pride as he replied, Yeah. I start next week. So while I'm out there making big drug busts, you'll still be writing parking tickets. Life's a bitch, eh, Parker?

Cut her some slack, Murphy initially came to my defense, only to recommence mocking me by immediately following it up with, It's not her fault she stopped growing when she was ten.

He laughed at his own joke at first. However, when he saw the pissed off look on my face, he immediately regretted saying it, realizing he was running the risk of me spreading the news of his little problem throughout the entire precinct. Knowing he'd never hear the end of it if I did, he stepped out of the way to let me pass.

Perhaps hoping to pave things over with me, he said with surprising sincerity, You know we're just joking with you, Parker. No hard feelings.

Rogers understandably gave him a confused look, wondering why Murphy was all of a sudden going easy on me. With any luck, the knowledge that I knew about his problems in the bedroom would prompt him to steer clear of me from now on, perhaps even advise Rogers to do the same. That would certainly make my days a lot more tolerable. I kind of doubted that would happen, but one can always hope.

Come on, he said to Rogers, throwing his arm over his friend's shoulder. Let's go get a beer to celebrate your big promotion.

Only if you're paying, Rogers replied. Before walking away with Murphy, he gave me a smug grin and a parting, See you around, Blondie. The Blondie nickname, which was one I'd never really enjoyed, being a reference to my bright blonde hair, which was currently tied up and tucked underneath my cap, as was regulation.

Shaking my head, I dragged my sore feet into the locker room and headed to my locker to grab a towel and a change of clothes. Being one of the only women on duty, I had the entire women's shower room to myself, something I was always grateful for, being that I'd never been all that comfortable with my body, my short stature only one of the many features I felt a bit self-conscious about.

Not having to worry about prying eyes judging my unenviable physique, I got to enjoy a nice long shower, the jets of warm water pelting my body as close to a relaxing massage as I was going to get. After another long frustrating day slaving away at a task that was wholly beneath me, I really needed it, especially after that run in with Murphy and Rogers.

Though I would never admit it to anyone, especially those two, the surprising news of Rogers getting assigned to narcotics hit me hard, harder than I thought it would. It was probably only a matter of time before Murphy got assigned to another division as well, followed shortly after by everyone else I'd attended the academy with, until I was the only one in my graduating class left still wearing a regulation uniform. They'd all be off to bigger and better things while I was still walking the streets writing tickets or acting as a glorified crossing guard. It was difficult not feeling disheartened by that. What was the point in doing any of this, in working so hard if I was just going to be relegated to stuff like meter maid duty for the entirety of my career? I'd be better off just quitting and pursuing better opportunities elsewhere.

After drying myself off, I stepped in front of the nearby full-length mirror with nothing but a towel wrapped around me, sighing as I stared at my thoroughly unimposing figure. Disappointed didn't even begin to describe how I felt about my physique. Why did I have to be so small? Why couldn't I have blossomed and matured like all the other girls I'd grown up around? It was just so unfair. While they had all gotten taller, I'd stopped growing before I'd even reached a meager five feet.

The differences didn't end there either. While they had all developed alluring feminine curves and classic hourglass figures, I was still built like a stick. I flexed my arm, trying to showcase some muscle, but there was barely even a bump where my bicep was located. I just didn't get it. I worked out regularly, concentrating mostly on strength training to build lean muscle, but, no matter what I tried, I wasn't getting any results, at least none that I could see. Lifting weights, vitamins, protein shakes, nothing seemed to be working. I still appeared thin and lanky. Was I simply doomed to always remain so? It was starting to look that way.

Lack of muscles aside, I wasn't particularly pleased with the rest of my body either. Along with my complete lack of curves, I didn't possess much of an ass and my small bust left a lot to be desired. I barely even needed a bra. And then, of course, there was my perpetual baby-face, a cute little button nose, dimples on both my cheeks, an all-around adorable package that constantly betrayed who I was and what I wanted to be. I was tough as nails, a dare-devil, someone you didn't want to mess with, but my reflection didn't convey that at all. Quite the opposite.

Staring into the mirror, I tried my best to look angry and intimidating, curling my lip like a rabid snarling dog. It was like a teddy bear trying to appear tough. The freckles spotted around my nose and upper cheeks certainly didn't help. At least I could cover them with make-up though. The rest required a lot more work to improve or hide.

With some additional make-up I could do a pretty good job making my face appear more mature and sexy if that was the look I was going for and a padded push-up bra helped a lot with my less than stellar bust. Heels were also a must if I wanted to appear taller, hence why they were a staple in my normal everyday wardrobe. Unfortunately, I couldn't wear heels while on the job though. Despite how female action heroes in movies make it seem, you can't effectively chase a perp while wearing heels, not that I ever had to do so given my mundane police duties.

The only aspect of my appearance that I could honestly say I didn't have a problem with was my hair, which is why for the longest time I always hesitated to do anything to it besides let it grow and grow. I suppose you could say it was sort of my security blanket. Reaching up for the big bun atop my head, I pulled the elastic from it, allowing my natural blond hair to tumble down my back. To say it was long would be a bit of an understatement. The thick, silky flaxen locks didn't stop unspooling until they reached the middle of my bum. Both it's length and general lack of style did little to make me appear mature or intimidating. As a matter of fact, my extra-long mane probably only aided in making me look even more cute and innocent, but I loved it nonetheless.

While I could have easily changed my hair to make it less girlish, gotten it cut much shorter into a more mature style, I simply couldn't bring myself to part with it, as childish as that may seem. It was unlikely a haircut was going to make that big of a difference anyway, no matter how drastic. It wasn't like cutting my hair was going to make me grow five or six inches overnight. Might as well hang on to one of the only aspects of my appearance that provided me some much-needed confidence. A tiny little smirk appeared on my face as I took a moment to admire it in the mirror.

I eventually managed to pull myself away from my reflection and start changing into my street clothes. As I slipped on my padded bra, a nice blouse, a pair of jeans that actually made it look like I had some curves, tied my hair up again and slipped on a pair of thigh-high heeled boots, I decided there was really no point in beating myself up about my body. After all, I couldn't change it. All I could do was work with what I had and hope that other people, namely my superiors at the precinct, looked past it. So far though, they hadn't shown any signs whatsoever of doing that and I wasn't sure just how much longer I could stand being treated like a fragile little princess.

Feeling a bit deflated, I left the locker room ready to head home and drown my sorrows in a pint of mint chip ice cream. However, on my way towards the door, I noticed quite a few people gathered around whispering to each other, all of them looking in the direction of the chief's office. Curious about what was going on, I took a look for myself and spotted Katherine Hawthorne engaged in what looked like a pretty heated conversation with Chief Huxley.

Katherine was the head of the organized crime unit and a woman whom I very much looked up to and admired. She had a well-known reputation for being a hard-nosed, no-nonsense, take charge woman and was highly respected in pretty much every corner of local law enforcement. Basically, she was everything I aspired to be.

If she was here talking to the chief, then something big was going down. For a brief moment, I got excited, until I realized that, whatever it was, it definitely wouldn't involve me. After all, I was just a perennial meter maid, seemingly the lowest person on the totem pole at the precinct, barely above the janitorial staff in the eyes of people like Chief Huxley. So, while I was certainly interested in what all the hubbub was about, I grabbed my leather jacket and prepared to head home for the day.

I barely got more than a few steps before a thundering voice shouted out, Parker!

Startled, I turned, as did most everyone else, their eyes all pointed squarely at me. Frozen in place like a deer caught in headlights, I stared slack-jawed in the direction the voice had come from, my eyes eventually falling upon Chief Huxley, who was standing in front of his office door.

Parker! he repeated loudly, waving in my direction. Get over here!

Given that he rarely ever saw fit to even acknowledge my presence when we passed each other in the hallway, I was more than a tad skeptical that he was actually asking for me and not just someone else who happened to have the same last name. Therefore, I pointed at myself while giving him a questioning look.

To my surprise, he nodded and emphatically gestured for me to head over. Walking towards his office with everyone staring at me, I felt like a little kid being called into the principal's office. I braced myself for bad news. After all, what else could it possibly be?

Katherine was waiting inside, standing with her arms crossed underneath her breasts, a displeased look on her face, which I was very thankful wasn't being directed at me.

Sounding uncharacteristically contrite, the chief gestured towards Katherine as he said to me, Officer Parker, Sergeant Hawthorne would like to have a word with you.

"Yes, I would. Alone," Katherine said, giving the chief a hard look.

He nodded, trying his best to make a graceful exit. The fact that Katherine could effectively kick the chief, someone who outranked her, out of his own office and commandeer it for herself spoke volumes about her standing within the department. She was clearly not a woman to be trifled with, which, of course, begged the question, What in the world did she want with someone like me?

Leaning back against the chief's desk, she began rifling through a stack of papers that I quickly came to realize was actually my personal file. So, you're Allison Parker.

Clearing my throat, I stiffened my stance, standing with my legs apart, my head held high and my arms behind my back like an army recruit. Yes, mam, I answered.

She took a moment to familiarize herself with my file, occasionally glancing up at me, clearly sizing me up. It was hard to tell what she was thinking. While I tried my best to look at ease, I'm sure she could tell I was nervous. I couldn't remember the last time my heart had beat so fast.

After an awkwardly long silence, she finally placed my file down on the desk, crossed her arms and addressed me. So, tell me, Officer Parker, have you enjoyed your first year on the force?

I really hadn't, but I wasn't about to say that, not to a woman like her. Coming across as a whiny crybaby wasn't the kind of first impression I wanted to make. So, I lied. Yes, mam.

She quickly followed that up with another question, And you've been happy with your assignments as of yet?

Once again, I choose to tow the line. Yes, mam.

She didn't look pleased as she responded, Don't do that.

Confused, I replied, Do what?

Blow smoke up my ass, she said. Save that for Chief Huxley and his ilk. They love having their asses kissed on a regular basis. I don't. So, let's skip the bullshit and you just say what's really on your mind, Officer Parker. That sound good to you?

She'd seen right through me. Not surprising. I should have known I couldn't lie to someone like her. Feeling like a bit of a fool, I nodded.

Good, she said. So, let me ask you again. Have you been happy with your assignments thus far?

This time I told her the truth. No, mam. With all due respect to the captain, I think my talents are being wasted.

Sergeant Hawthorne smiled, apparently pleased with my honesty. I'd have to agree, she said. I've seen your academy scores. It's damn near criminal that they've got you on parking meter duty almost every day. But, it's always been a bit of a boy's club around here. So, I imagine it would be safe to say that you're looking for something with a little more teeth? For a chance to prove your worth?

I couldn't help but get a bit excited. It certainly sounded like she was about to recruit me into her division. I enthusiastically answered, Yes, mam. I'm ready, willing and able.

Her expression turned serious, even more than it was naturally, her tone become far graver as she said, Even if it's something extremely dangerous?

Without the slightest hesitation, I answered, I didn't sign up to become a police officer to play it safe. I want to make a difference.

She looked impressed. Good answer. A little bit corny, but I don't doubt your sincerity. She rounded the chief's desk, her expression becoming even more grave as she quizzed me, Does the name Antonio Salvatore ring a bell with you?

Ah, yeah, I replied. Ruthless mob boss. Runs the whole east side.

West side too now, she corrected me. I wouldn't expect you to know that though. We've been trying to keep it under wraps.

I nodded. All I knew about Salvatore's dealings was simply what I'd read in the papers. So I had no idea his influence had grown that much.

Have you read today's late edition? she asked me.

I shook my head, which prompted her to slide the newspaper across the desk towards me. As I stepped forward, she turned away, placing her hands behind her back as she peered out the window at the city skyline, the open blinds casting striped shadows across her face. Looking at her reflection in the window, I could see a great deal of anger hidden beneath her pensive expression and a quick glance at the newspaper in front of me explained why.

According to the headline, a police officer had been found dead late last night, shot in the head and left in an alley. I scanned the byline and learned that his name was Lieutenant Oscar Sanchez and that he worked for the organized crime unit. Katherine's unit. One of her men had been killed.

Oscar was a good man, she said as she continued to stare out the window, her voice brimming with a mix of sadness and anger. I worked with him for almost ten years.

What does one even say to something like that? Words always tend to ring hollow in times of great tragedy.

Stupidly, I made an attempt anyway. Did he have a family?

Sergeant Hawthorne spun around and directed her fiery gaze at me. Does it really matter?

I quickly stumbled my way through an apology. Sorry. I didn't mean to say...I mean, it's not that...ah... You're right. It doesn't matter.

The point is, we lost one of our own, she said. "We can't allow that to stand. Officer Sanchez wasn't the first and he won't be the last...unless we do something about it."

Furrowing my brows, I replied, We?

How would you like to actually make a difference, Officer Parker? she said to me. To do something worthwhile for once? To prove to Chief Huxley and everyone like him that you're much more than just a meter maid?

It felt wrong to feel excited given the tragic circumstances, but I simply couldn't help it. Finally, a chance to prove myself! With a look of pure, solid determination, I told her, I'd like that more than anything, mam.

And how far would you be willing to go to do it? she questioned me

As far as it takes, I said. I'll do anything.

Anything?

I nodded. Anything.

You may come to regret those words, she warned me.

I won't, I assured her. I've been waiting for an opportunity like this since the day I joined the force. I'm ready.

Well, you're certainly determined. I'll give you that, she remarked. That kind of attitude always helps in undercover work.

My mouth dropped a little. Undercover?

Yes, she confirmed. "We've got a very special undercover operation in mind. It's extremely unorthodox and it's extremely risky, but if it works, we'll be able to nail that piece of shit Salvatore once and for all, take down his whole damn operation in one fell swoop."

It was clear that she wanted that. Badly. There was an intense fire burning in her eyes, a raging inferno that if not properly contained threatened to consume her. They were the unmistakable flames of vengeance. This wasn't just any police operation for her. This was personal. Considering she'd just lost her long-time colleague, that was certainly understandable.

For some, seeing such intense lust for revenge might scare them off, but not me. I found her fierce conviction contagious. I had never met Officer Sanchez, but I suddenly felt a duty to avenge his death, to do my part in taking down his killers. And, yeah, this was also a chance to prove myself. If I did this, if I helped take down the most powerful crime boss in the whole damn city, no one would be able to question my meddle ever again. Not Chief Huxley, not Murphy, not Rogers. No one. They'd have no choice but to finally acknowledge that I was a damn good police officer, one who was worthy of a lot more than writing parking tickets.

Eager to help her, I said, So, what would I have to do?

I can't share any of the details yet, she replied. I know that's not ideal, but we can't risk any leaks. You're either in or you're out. And once you're in, there's no going back.

I knew I shouldn't question her, that I shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth, but my curiosity got the best of me, forcing me to ask, Why me?

Look, I'm not gonna lie, you've simply got the look we're going for, she confessed. Let's just say we have a very specific undercover role in mind and I'm pretty sure you're the only person in the entire department that could actually realistically pull it off.

That answer only raised more questions. The first being, What kind of undercover role?

Like I said, I can't share any of the details, she replied. I know that puts you in a tough spot, but there's nothing I can do about that. If it helps make the decision any easier, I'd be more than willing to grant you a personal recommendation for any division you want. If you're willing to volunteer, of course.

My eyes got big as I thought of all of the possibilities that came along with that. A personal recommendation from someone as influential as Katherine Hawthorne was not something that could be easily overlooked. It was practically a golden ticket to any department on the force! I'd pretty much get to choose whatever job I wanted, including a spot in homicide! My dream job was within reach, being dangled before me like a sparkling jewel.

So, she said, walking around the desk to stand face to face with me. Are you in?

Without thinking twice about what I might be getting into, I nodded. Yes, mam.

Sergeant Hawthorne smiled. Then welcome aboard, Officer Parker, she said, extending a hand to me. I look forward to working with you.

Me too. With a big stupid grin on my face, I grabbed her hand and shook it, probably looking like a starstruck fan who had just met her favorite celebrity.

Meet me in my office tomorrow morning, seven A.M. sharp, and we'll go over the details, she instructed me. And I'm sure this goes without saying, but don't mention anything about this to anyone. Not your friends, not your family, and definitely not anyone out there. She gestured towards the office window that looked into the precinct.

Of course, I said, a smile glued to my face. It felt like I'd just won the lottery.

The less people in the loop, the better. So, you'll be answering to me and only to me, she said.

Yes, mam, I responded with a nod.

Surprisingly, she looked almost as pleased as me. I guess that's all for now then, she said. Go home and get a good night's sleep, Officer Parker. Come tomorrow, you'll be getting a whole new life.

I gave her one last enthusiastic, Yes, mam, before I

Reviews for Undercover Best Friend

[TheWeekendHangover · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Fantastic read, not often you get an entertaining story in this genre.