Naked At My Side

Sometimes he asks himself what in God's name he's thinking. What God would do, if He knew what Raymond Vecchio were thinking at times like these. Sitting here, waiting for a suspect to wander by because he wasn't at home and wasn't working and had no girlfriends or boyfriends or mother to visit and this bar was the only place he'd ever been seen more than once. Sitting in the car because they'd cased the joint already and no one was expecting him for days, but Vecchio couldn't very well go back to the station and say he was going home, call him when something good happened.

Sitting in the car because inside, it was too noisy to listen to Fraser tell stories that Ray pretended he didn't want to hear while he was thinking about Fraser, and the things he wished he were doing, other than sitting stakeout and waiting for nothing.

If God knew what Ray was thinking right this very minute, He'd probably smite him down. Give him a stack of cases to work on, keeping him too busy to do more than sit in his car on stake-outs, waiting for a guy to show up so Ray could finally arrest somebody. Except that that sort of thing usually led to spending more time with Fraser, which tended to lead to more thinking about things he was pretty sure God wouldn't approve of. If a heavy caseload was God's punishment, maybe it meant He didn't really mind what Ray was thinking.

Or maybe His punishment was making Ray too afraid to do anything about what he was thinking.