mateomeijer
broken wings.
⸻ mateo. detective, covington pd. owner of the vault. orchird park.
❝ he hated the way every drug in its different way scooped the solidity right out of the world and left it quicksand-textured, cracked across and wavering at the edges. they did the same thing to people: people on drugs stopped being what you knew them to be. ❞
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All his life he'd been someone's little brother, and for the majority of it he hadn't known where his sister was. They'd been split up when they'd gone into foster care, each adopted out to different families in different parts of the country. So, when it came to Sarai, she was a bit of found family — a little sister rather than an older one that he could look out for. Their parents were friends so they often saw a lot of each other, and it was something that hadn't really changed in adulthood. "Hey, Rai, whatcha got there?" All he could see was a small furry thing moving in her hands, then she explained and he nodded. Briefly he looked around and was unsure why he'd done so. It wasn't as though someone was about to magically appear. "Are there others or a mother? We could probably take it to the shelter. Unless... you want to take it home. Could always post that you found it and where, see if anyone reaches out missing it."
closed starter @mateomeijer
It had been a productive day for Sarai. She had run all her errands at Covington Square and had just finished loading the last of her shopping bags into the trunk of her car when she heard a faint meowing sound. Looking down, she spotted a tiny gray kitten sitting by her feet. With a soft gasp, she quickly closed the trunk and scooped up the little kitten into her arms. "Hi there... What are you doing here all alone?" she cooed as she cradled the kitten. "Where's your mommy?" She lightly petted the kitten's soft fur as it snuggled against her, purring. When she peered up a moment later, she noticed her childhood neighbor walking by. "Oh, hi Mat," she called out to him. "I think someone might have lost their kitten. What should I do?" If it were up to her, she would bring it home, but that might be a problem if the kitten belonged to someone.
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Sat with paperwork, Mateo let any customers browse in peace. Music was a personal experience, one to be shared, sure, but the hunt for a good album didn't really need chatter unless invited. Plus, as usual, he was behind on the files. The administrative side of his profession was the most dreaded and time consuming, so it was usually pushed off to hours where he could sit in the store with good tunes filling up the background noise. At the question, Mateo looked up and noted the record currently in the man's hand, "you mean other than what you're holding?" A friendly smirk crept onto his expression and he pulled his booted feet from the desk and stood up. "I've got a mint Led Zeppelin record in the back for safe keeping. The real deal, debut album from sixty-nine, or I have a couple singles if that's more your speed." One of the reasons the rare record hadn't sold yet was the price tag, and Mateo wasn't exactly going hard on the advertising for it.
closed starter @mateomeijer
Strolling through downtown Covington, Roman wandered aimlessly, passing the time until he had to fetch Ivy from school. He spotted a record store called The Vault and, feeling curious, he decided to step inside. The store was like all the other record stores he’d visited before; rows of vinyl records lining the walls. As he browsed through the different sections—jazz, blues, rock—his fingers brushed over the variety of covers. He thought about his own vinyl collection back at his new home, tucked away in boxes waiting to be unpacked. When he reached the classic rock albums, he pulled out a random Led Zeppelin record and flipped it over to read the tracklist, smiling as he recalled going to their concerts in high school. Peering up at the man behind the counter, he asked, "Got any Zeppelin in here?" He figured this record shop probably didn't carry anything that obscure in stock, but it didn't hurt to ask on the off chance they had some gems.
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Music had always been this tangible dream, one that offered a promise of a much different life, and yet — Mateo had never been able to part ways with what he had always believed to be his prupose. Living had always been a steady representation of choices and results of those choices, and somehow finding a way to be fulfilled with the one path you'd chosen versus the other. Whenever Mateo was at venues such as this he would idly wonder what the world would look like if he'd gone the artistic route.
"Well, if it isn't my favorite bartender." His easy yet tired smile greeted her as Addy's head popped out. "Yeah, I figured I'd give 'em a shot." More like — it had really mattered what band was playing what, Mateo siezed an opportunity to catch some live music and forget about the current path he was on and had chosen. "What do you think? You've heard 'em before?"
A simple sideays glance at Addy and the detective took in just about every detail of her. It was a habit wholly engrained into Mateo by now and one done without thought or command. "You 're looking a little empty handed. Why don't I grab you a drink for a change..."
Location: The Fillmoir
closed for: @mateomeijer
Addy remembered what a hot spot The Fillmoir was, having a fun night out by getting to watch live performances of up and coming musicians. Most of them were local too, with the few out of town performers who were willing to make the trip for a gig. Her dad was big on keeping up with the local music scene, even if the music they played wasn't to his particular taste, so he urged her to take a night off to see the new, local band who were playing there this week.
Not one to argue with her father, she went, willing to see what this band was all about. It did feel a bit weird to go alone, Addy liked having company for this sort of thing, but she told herself that she could make friends while she was there. She wandered somewhat aimlessly when she arrived, grabbed a drink and looked around for a familiar face.
When she spotted Mateo, she was relieved. Finally. Someone she could chat with. Even if most of their interactions were with her behind the bar, she was sure that their easy discussions didn't depend on a bar between them. "Hey stranger!" She greeted with a smile, poking her head out from behind him. "Fancy seeing you here. You here to see what this new band is all about too?"
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The way music could easily be a complete soundtrack to his life wasn't entirely something Mateo wanted to humor right then. As Morgan sang on about needing something stronger than whiskey, something you proof, he could relate to the point of it being uncomfortable. Most days (and nights) she inflitrated his thoughts. It was any number of things, but usually seemed to stick around the emerald hue of her eyes, the sound of her laugh, and the scent of her hair. All things a man working hard to solve her case shouldn't be concerning himself with, much less thinking too much about. With his hand around a drink Wallen kept on singing his life with this song, so he tossed it back and enjoyed the burn because it kept him from remembering what she tasted like.
What would have happened if her friend hand't come home when she had? Would Mateo have allowed himself to cross that line to the point of no return? A place that was beyond blurred lines? He couldn't stop thinking about it. Aside from Francesca's case and finding out who'd harmed her, it was the second most wanted thing for Detective Meijer.
"You really think you have to pay me to dance with you?" The man loved and breathed music, and maybe he wasn't the best dancer, but with the right partner he wouldn't hesitate to slide on out to the dance floor. A bit of a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as his dark eyes sank into her own. Soon they swept over her gorgeous face and dropped down to her figure wrapped in garments that continued to pique his curiosity. Despite knowing that putting his hands on her body and having Chess move against him was a bad idea, only asking for trouble and to make things worse, his expression morphed to a smile as he gave a single nod of his head.
Another gulp down, Mateo would need it as an excuse for why he clung a little tighter, and his hand was offered for Chess to take. "Come on, let's dance." Between his business and his job as a law enforcement officer he had plenty he needed to be doing rather than filling in where her best friend couldn't make it, but when it came to Chess so much went out the window. "You better not make me look bad out here." A tease as Mateo led her out onto the dance floor, a spot amongst the rest having a good time to good music. ( @chessflores )
at southern drawl country bar and line dancing with: @mateomeijer —
It wasn't unusual for Mateo to accompany her and Bek on one of their traditional 'girls night out's'. Most of the time, he insisted. Even went as far as chauffeuring them around. But tonight, Bek was busy. Something about a last minute emergency that required her to bail.
That bitch.
Unsettling, considering - Chess was hoping to use her as a buffer between herself and the man whose lips she couldn't stop thinking about.
While, it wasn't the first time they had blurred lines by crossing boundaries better left in tact but, it was more intense this time around. The only thing stopping them from slipping hands in places they shouldn't belong... had been the turn of a key as Chess' roommate barreled through the front door.
Thank god for Ahalya and her late night freebies from work or else who knows what would've happened. In the same breath, Chess wanted to curse her for not waiting at least twenty more minutes.
That was long enough to see what could've transpired, right?
Alas, if the kiss was anything to go by, twenty minutes wouldn't be nearly enough to figure their shit out.
"How much to convince you to go out there and dance with me?" Because sitting at the bar wasn't helping her keep her thoughts and rampant feelings at bay.
Maybe dancing would help. Maybe busting a move to Morgan Wallen's 'You Proof' might actually distract her from the sexy twinkle in Mateo's eyes each time he looked at her or the shirt that seemed to so cruelly accentuate his torso in all the right places.
"I'll throw in another beer and a fridge full of leftovers the next time you drop me off."
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It was common for Mateo to work on his backlog of paperwork when manning The Vault. Just being around the music and having it fill the background of the store was soothing, or maybe comforting was the right descriptor. While being a detective, doing policework, felt like his calling in life, it was his purpose, music was more akin to the blood that pumped in his veins. It kept him alive.
When the door opened and the man that entered had a phone in hand it took all his willpower not to grumble. The TikTokers these days thought it was touching history to enter a record store. They would film their little videos and quite honestly be annoying as fuck.
"Afternoon," he responded casually, all of his formative years spent in the south had instilled in him good manners, "it's not too bad. A little slow after the holidays, but good. How are you, my friend?" The guy seemed familiar Mateo just couldn't place him right away. "Oh, the Zeppelin looking dude? Ralph..." A chuckle spilled from his lips. "He's alive and well, just couldn't resist a good offer when it came along." Hand on his chest indicated that he had been the one that had made the purchase. ( @renzienaipaul )
location: the Vault Record Store
@mateomeijer
"Ha - I can't believe you're still here," Renzie talked aloud to the Vault, once he located it downtown. He was doing his own live-tweeting (live-Xing? goddamn Musk) tour of Covington to entertain his online followers. Taking photos of the storefronts, posting it on Twitter/X with witty commentary about his past. Renzie lifted his phone to snap a pic of the exterior, then headed inside.
It looked exactly the same, except for the guy at the counter. Renzie was honestly expecting either the original hippie owner still manning the store, or maybe a part-time desultory teenager who was too cool for even vinyl.
Instead, Renzie found a guy - a guy who looked his age, doing his thing, looking busy.
"Hey how's it going?" Renzie called out in greeting. One thing he remembered about Covington that he'd missed in LA: that small town Southern friendliness. He meandered further in, looking around. "Say is that, uh...the owner here?" Renzie snapped his fingers, the name of the old hippie slipping his mind. "...What's his name? Oh man, he didn't die, did he?"
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"Unless you're into John Denver not really." The answer came without Mateo looking up from the paperwork he was currently trying to get through stacks of. He'd gotten behind, as he always did, because who liked the administrative side, and at the insistence of his chief was getting the oldest stuff done first. "You're right about that," he commented, the face and voice familiar from the times they'd spoken during previous visits, "it'll likely be another few weeks before anything real substantial comes in." Even though Mateo had a perfectly good office back at the station this was where he preferred to do this side of his day, and too often night, job.
That was the question that finally had the detective looking up from the stack of papers. "CDs?" Brow raised and furrowed he refrained his laugh, made sure it died in his throat because he didn't want to come off ridiculing. "They don't really hold or have any value. I'm actually trying to get rid of what I have." Pen in hand pointed to the CD section that had a big CLEARANCE sign above it. "What do you have? Anything rare or unique?" While record players were still in production and listed for a pretty penny, he had to wonder if anyone still made CD players.
"Depending on what you have I could give you a lump sum and set 'em out here with the rest of 'em. It's not common but people do occasionally purchase one or two." ( @knox-zhang )
At The Vault
With @mateomeijer
"Anything new come in this week?" The owner of the shop was nearby, so Knox asked the question as he thumbed through a stack of vinyls. The record store had become a nice spot to kill time or find a treasure. The guy who owned the place seemed knowledgable enough without being too chatty. Music always played in the background and he could tune in to sort through band names, titles, genres. Turn the brain off, no worries. "I'm not looking for anything in particular. Just wondering. I'd imagine not a lot drops in these few weeks after the holidays, huh."
In other words, slow. As it was slow for Knox business-wise too. A few, er brave (aka nutters) didn't mind cruising the rivers and lakes in the cold but not enough for his liking.
He moved on to another alphabetized stack, this time to the letter R. Needed cash, in a record store... yeah. Gave him an idea. "You buy old CDs?" His ex left behind a stack that held no interest to Knox, and he wasn't terribly interested in the courtesy of returning. But they might be worth a little money sold to The Vault. "I got some I'd like to get rid of."
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It didn't really seem as though Mateo had a say in the matter. Before his fatigued brain could catch up, Bek was already forcing a seat out with her foot and clearing away some of her spread of paperwork. "Alright, I guess if you insist." The comment was meant to be playful, teasing even, and yet his tone rasped a little too flat and slow for that to be properly conveyed. "Are people still silly?" A brow quirked in her direction and a roughened hand wrapped around a warm mug. "Is that still a thing or have we moved onto something different?"
Considering the people he could cross on a daily basis and the varied interactions it was nice to be in the company of someone soft and sweet for a bit. A young woman who still used the term silly, for instance. "Care to walk me through this process? I'm genuinely curious." And Mateo was, displayed as much as his eyes grazed over the papers being put into piles. There were ideas about her profession, what she did all day with patients, but having never actually been one Mateo was clueless. "The hospital doesn't have you do everything digital?" When it came to his own job it seemed he was much like her, possibly. Everything done in an old school fashion. Comeplete with a notepad in hand for notes.
"You sure about that?" A smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth as his dirty fingers dipped into the plate of fries she was clearly wanting him to finish. "You seem pretty alive and well." A blessing, something to be proud of. In avoidance of further insistence, Mateo picked up the menu and began looking it over. "What do you recommend?" What he really wanted was to ask about Chess. To know how she was doing, and there was no better source of information than from a girl's best friend. ( @bekturan )
Was he?
Shoulders hanging heavy. Sluggish steps. Eyes puffy, almost bruised looking underneath, far too dazed and bleary— Bek knew the physical signs of too little sleep. She met them in the mirror more often than not.
And, while she was too polite to say as much, she had a real, genuine worry that Mateo was one sway off from his ass hitting the ground. "Don't be silly. Have a seat and enjoy your coffee."
Enjoy being the only part of that up for debate.
Hooking her foot into the supports of the nearest stool she moved it out for him to take, then got to work cleaning up the piles of mess around them. "Technically it doesn't," require so much paperwork, that is, "but it's all part of my process."
Going digital would likely condense what could be hours of prepping into minutes, but she'd learned years ago it wasn't even half as effection. She needed to do it all by hand, needed the chore of comitting pen to paper, or all those little details she needed to know packed up and fled her brain.
"Are you hungry?" It was subtle— the way she coaxed both her still warm fries and a laminated menu in his direction. "I have it on good authority their burgers are to die for."
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"Nah, I'm good to stand for a bit." Mateo's voice rasped next to her as his eyes wandered over the spread, wondering if he'd ended up at her home office rather than the diner. "I feel like I would disturb the force if I had you move all over this." A hand hovered and moved over all the papers in a circular motion while a smile formed at one corner of his mouth. He'd really only dropped in for coffee. Maybe it wasn't the best in town, but Mateo appreciated the vibe more than anything else. The long night had worn into the day, his entire body felt weary, shoulders drooped slightly with fatigue. A new lead had sent him down the rabbit hole, then when he had nodded off in his SUV the image of his mother had infiltrated his unconsciousness. There was no sleeping when evil haunted. "Who knew physical therapy required so much paper." Just a tease as he ordered a mug of burnt sludge.
location: lucille's diner
status: open, capped at (0/3) replies.
Bek Turan was a woman of habits. A woman of rituals and routine. One of them just so happened to be posting up along the counter at Lucille's, a spread of papers fanned around her plate and a cup of coffee within easy reach.
That day was no different. Treatment plans, progress notes, a tentative schedule for the next week— she'd made herself quite at home in the last hour she'd been there.
But Bek wasn't selfish. She knew she wasn't the only one who went weak at the knees for their churro milkshakes and piping hot fries.
When a figure appeared in her peripheral she glanced up, notching on a smile equally sheepish and sincere. "Sorry." She was taking up enough room for three people, wasn't she?
"Do you need the seat? I can move my things."
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⸻ peter gadiot, 38, cis male, he/him // in the ORCHIRD PARK neighborhood of Covington, you’ll find MATEO MEIJER who’s lived there for SEVENTEEN YEARS and they spend their days working as a DETECTIVE WITH COVINGTON PD and THE OWNER OF THE VAULT RECORD STORE. They’ve been described as PERSEVERING, GENUINE, REACTIVE, and GUARDED by the people that know them. This is his story.
Triggers: child abuse, mental illness, death/suicide
When looking back on where he has come from, Mateo doesn't like to look too deep or with too much intensity. Born and raised until aged 11 in upstate New York his father was an artist and his mother was the same. They were two painters that forged a life together after growing up with him always in pursuit of her. As kids, it had been love at first sight for his father, and his mother came around eventually. It just wasn't until after his mother's best friend had moved away to California and had married a film producer out there.
The early years his childhood was happy and warm. It wasn't until after his mother's best friend had passed away in a horrible accident in California that his mother's mental and emotional state began to decline. She drank too heavily and became abusive, first only verbally then it had become physical as well after nearly two years. Mateo's father had done everything he could to protect him and his older sister from the abuse. The man also sought help for his wife's drinking and declining health. Nothing worked. It all only got worse.
When Mateo was 11 he had walked into the converted carriage house near the main house turned working studio and found his father hanging lifeless. It's a sight that he's never been able to unsee. By the time his father was buried and laid to rest his mother had cleared out his studio and gotten rid of everything. It was only six months later that he and his older sister were taken away by the state. Unfortunately, Mateo and his sister were separated and adopted out to different families with him finding himself in the south. Covington, Georgia.
It took many years and plenty of required therapy for Mateo to come out of the poor state he'd been in. At the start he'd been unable and unwilling to open up or trust anyone despite his new family being absolutely wonderful with him. They were patient and it eventually paid off. Mateo came out of grief and survival mode with an interest and ability with music, a talented guitar player and decent songwriter. There was even a possibility of going off to music school and several times he'd been on the verge of starting a band or recording music. But, ultimately, Mateo knew that wasn't his purpose in life.
What he really needed to do was help people. So, after graduation from high school, he went off to university in Atlanta and studied criminal justice. Mateo's purpose was to become a detective, a lawman, someone that could help those in need. Partly, he wanted to learn the necessary skills for selfish reasons. His sister was out there somewhere and the desire to reconnect with her is strong. There's also the need to uncover the truth about his past and make peace with it. Once he earned his degree he came back home to Covington and became a cop. It didn't take long for him to build a very strong reputation and rise through the ranks to detective.
Many times he has received special accolades and commendations for his outstanding work. Has even been offered promotions, asked to take on a role and title with more responsibility but has always turned it down. Mateo didn't become a cop so that he would be stuck and desk and push around papers, there was no interest in the bureaucracy or business of it all. Being a detective and making a difference where he could has been all that's mattered.
Without a doubt the job is difficult and can be incredibly taxing. In times that he's nearly quit and walked away because the weight on his shoulders was too much, or he'd noticed how he'd picked up his birth mother's drinking habit, Mateo knew that he needed to find another outlet. There had to be somewhere to turn. And that happened to be music. Considering that he didn't make a ton of money but also had little expenses with no family of his own, just a house and a German Shepherd, it was easy to take his savings and buy out The Vault Record Store from it's previous owner.
A couple of years ago Mateo found a young woman badly hurt following what had appeared to be a brutal attack. It was perhaps the wrong move to make but he rushed the woman to the hospital himself knowing he could get her to help fast than it would take emergency vehicles to get to them and then take her in. With her condition critical it was a call he took responsibility for. While in emergency care and waiting on the woman to become stable Mateo had already begun the quest in finding out what had happened to her and who was responsible.
For the six months she was in the hospital in a coma Mateo visited at least once a week. At the urging of staff suggesting he talk to her, he did just that. The news would be read to her, there would be updates on her case or just him talking through what little he had, and he'd apologize for not making any progress. Her case had quickly become the one that took him over. It wasn't easy for the seasoned detective to solve, and even more frustrating that Mateo couldn't seem to find a road to travel down. When she woke he remained close to her, perhaps a little too close, and struggled with the professional boundary line.
Now, at 38, his mother has reached out to him. Sick and with not much time left Mateo's under even more pressure to find out where things went wrong in the past. There's some secrets he knows he has to uncover and most days he's not sure if he wants to. What he has never told anyone, not his therapist when he was adopted or his sister before they were separated, was that he still has the note his father left.
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“I’ve been accused of having a death wish but I think it’s life that I wish for, terribly, shamelessly, on any terms whatsoever.”
— Tennessee Williams, from “Sweet Bird of Youth”, A Streetcar Named Desire and Other Plays
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“Life had been storm, and ecstasy, and hell,”
— Alexander Blok, from Selected Poems; “An Autumn Evening,” wr. c. 1906
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PETER GADIOT as JAMES VALDEZ
Season 3 of Queen of the South (2016-2021)
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