((Copying from the blog journals where I'll be cross posting from now on...))

Written somewhat hastily inside a red leather diary with the initials PD embossed in gold in the lower right hand corner:

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January 12 - What the hell has he done to me?

I haven't kept a diary since high school, but I've gotta talk to someone and I don't know who I can trust.

It's been a couple days now since he let me out of that cell. That cell I went willingly into, to buddy up with our little captive. How did I become a victim too? ...Am I a victim? I just don't know anymore.

Sure we haven't been together all that long and some weird traits are bound to pop up along the way, but this? I'm fuckin' deferring business decisions to him without hesitation. He gives me a look and I blush and lower my eyes, what the fuck is that? That ain't me, for sure.

First it was the whippin' for nearly ruining an entire shipment of green. Then this whole being locked up and made to heel shit... It's gotta be a coincidence though, I've never seen him think something this far through since I've known him. He don't even know the difference between metric measurements and American ones so it ain't like he's planned this out or nothin'. I think?
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Can't make this shit up.
Submitted by Petra on Wed, 02/16/2011 - 21:50

Dear Diary,

He's a cop.

A COP.

He went and joined the goddamn DEPD... and I about fell outta my chair when he walked in the house in that same uniform we've been keeping such a close eye on all this time.

The other night we had a cop come in for coffee and donuts (like I could make that shit up), some chick who wanted to talk to us. Turns out she's tryin' to shake us down, protection papers or some shit. Fuck that, we may be new to town, but we ain't new to the game. She tried to make us see her way of thinkin' at the end of her baton, I introduced her to our way at the end of a cinder block. Checked her for ID and turns out the bitch is a fucking captain in the DEPD - that had to be where this whole idea got rolling, right? Or was it just a convenient way for him to get his foot in the door..

A cop. ...It's brilliant. And it's been entertaining too. The look on Mark's face when he and Ny walked in the coffee shop and saw Eph standin' there in all his official glory? Priceless. Runnin' into that Myth guy's wife, the blond chick with three nipples, on our way home? I thought she was gonna have a kitten.

I gotta bring in some help to the shop to make up for the time he can't be there, out walkin' the beat or beatin' off or whatever it is cops do when they're not drinkin' coffee and eatin' donuts... which reminds me, I gotta add donuts to the RH menu.

This whole thing makes me wonder though, the shit that happened before, locking me up with that prosecutor chick, or convincing me to go in and keeping me in longer, whatever that whole thing was, now this sudden move to join the cops... how much is he planning ahead that I don't know about?

I gotta start paying more attention to the conversations that go on between him and our... associates.

~ Pet
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Flinching
Submitted by Petra on Thu, 02/24/2011 - 01:08

Dear Diary,

It happened again.

Was kind of quiet in the shop, just the two of us drinking coffee and he held out his mug to me for a refill without a word. I mouthed off with something, I don't even really remember what, something about, was his arm broken or something, and the look he gave me... I flinched. Then I made no sudden moves and got his refill. What the hell was that? Why don't I notice I'm doing it when it happens, and not till later?

I'm not gonna let it happen again. I feel like too much of me's slipping away.

~ Pet
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Doubt
Submitted by Petra on Wed, 03/02/2011 - 18:41

Dear Diary,

I just don't know anymore.

I was dancing at Lulu's the other night, and yeah I'd had a lot to drink, but I mean I never get hungover, right? I got thirsty after spinning around the pole for a while and he brought me a drink. He never brings me anything, that should've been my first clue, but I blame the tequila... anyway I tossed back the shot and before I could even get my clothes back on I started feeling woozy. Then he offers to help me to the beach to get some air, he says. Should've been another clue, but again... Anyway we get down to the docks, and the bastard about drown me for my behavior toward him in the bar. All 'cause I didn't let him push me around! I thought I was gonna die, I really did. He held me under the water for what felt like hours, and when he finally let me up it was like... well it was like it was my fault. Maybe it was. Maybe I do push him to the point of him needing to reel me back in. I don't know anymore. He took me back to the coffee shop and dried me off, and even made me a fresh pot of coffee.

I'm so disarmed I don't know what to think anymore. Did he put something in my drink, or did I really just push my limit like he says I did? Maybe I should've listened to him, shouldn't have drank as much as I did.

I guess I'm lucky to have him watching out for me. I think.

I gotta get back to the shop. That Myth guy came in today and ordered a bunch of brownies for the next DEPD meeting. I gotta figure out how much green I'm gonna need for that much brownie batter, and man I wish I could be a fly on the wall for how that meeting goes after they get the munchies...

~ Pet

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Revenge
Submitted by Petra on Sat, 03/19/2011 - 20:59

Dear Diary,

I'm stuck laying around in my underwear, placed on house arrest by my own personal DEPD captain. He won't let me leave after what happened yesterday, or a couple of days ago now I guess; I'm still kind of fuzzy on how long I was gone.

I know a couple of things for sure. One, we're putting god damn video cameras in the shop. Two, I'm gonna have more than a god damn baseball bat beneath the counter, and three... I'm screwed.

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