The Crossover by E. Clay

the busiest airports in the world. Once I was on the M25 motorway it was a smooth 90-minute drive north to Huntingdon where I called home. What a difference a day makes. Just 24 hours ago I was with Monet.
    I turned right onto my street and, although I was experiencing a bit of separation anxiety, it was nice to be home. I missed my cat Missy. Missy was abandoned when her owner deployed to Afghanistan. One day after work I came home to a cat carrier with a fat tabby inside, courtesy of a neighbor. She looked like she was about to deliver a litter of kittens so I took her to the vet for a checkup. I spent £25 ($40) just to find out she wasn’t pregnant, she was just fat.
    I opened my door and Missy was sitting at the top of the stairs as if she was expecting me. She didn’t act excited but I knew she missed me. I dropped my bags and gave her a hug knowing she would jump out of my arms in seconds. Missy was a dignified cat; any display of affection was on her terms.
    I knew she wanted to go out so I let her out the back door. The weather was overcast and gloomy but that was the norm and I was accustomed to it. I saw Gabby, the next door neighbor’s nine-year-old daughter, bouncing on her trampoline singing We Will Rock You by Queen. Ever since I did a magic show for her last birthday party she and I were pals.
    “Mr. Clay, Mr. Clay, do a magic trick, do a magic trick,” Gabby asked while doing back flips.
    “Mr. Clay is tired Gabby, but maybe later. Did you look after Missy while I was gone?” I asked as I peeped over the fence.
    “Yes.”
    “So, how’s Carl and Louise?”
    “Daddy is working long hours now. He’s not very happy at the moment. Mummy’s at Tesco. I told her I needed some rubbers and a pad for school.”
    “Well, if she forgets, I have a spare note pad and a few erasers in my study.”
    “Mr. Clay, I think my bouncy ball is in your yard. Can you throw it back?”
    If I ever had a daughter, Gabby would be her. Her dad was Irish and her mom was from the Seychelles. The result was a beautiful little girl with long locks of sandy colored hair and a perfect smile. Gabby was an angel.
    As savvy as I was when it came to beating jet lag, this time it was more of a struggle. For me, the key to beating jet lag was simply staying up and going to bed at your normal time. It was just after 11am but I was tired as hell. Maybe if I could just take a half-hour cat nap I could recharge my batteries and make it through the rest of the day. I’ll just snooze for 30 minutes, that’s all.
6:00pm
    Yawn. I lifted the pillow from my head and looked at the clock. I had overslept by six hours. Missy was sleeping at the end of the bed and it was dark outside.
    I was mad at myself. Not so much because I overslept but I hadn’t called Monet to tell her I made it home. I checked my cell and I had 11 missed calls from her. I looked at my watch and knew she was still at work. I sent Monet an email to explain what happened.
    Missy jumped off the bed and I could hear her scratching on the back door so I let her out.
    As I opened the backdoor the smell of cigarettes wafted past me like a stink cloud.
    “Hey, Carl is that you?” I asked, looking through a slot between the fence.
    Carl was a Cambridge police detective who worked in Britain’s Serious Organized Crime Agency, also known as SOCA. SOCA was an elite agency that existed to protect Britain from the greatest threats to society, to include terrorism and organized crime. Only the best of the best were recruited to work in SOCA. Carl never talked about his job but you could always tell when he was working on something big. He would start smoking again.
    Carl had a shaved head and wore studded earrings in both ears. He was a proud Brit and proudly displayed the Union Jack flag on his front porch. He wasn’t a big guy but he was gruff and probably had a mean streak. We got along because we both had a law enforcement background and he knew some of the coppers I worked with