Superbia 1-3 Box Set, page 37
"Dairy Queen!" Cory shouted.
The little one yanked on his arm to pull him toward their kiosk and Devon sighed and said, "Fine, whatever."
Frank stopped Cory and looked at his older daughter, "Where do you want to go, hon?"
"Does it matter?"
"Does everything have to be difficult? I'm trying to have a good time with you guys. This isn't a major decision."
"Can I get a fruit smoothie at the yogurt place?"
"Yes," Frank said. He dug into his pocket and handed her a ten dollar bill. "Just stay where I can see you, okay? We'll meet you over there."
Devon took the money and thanked him and he watched her move by herself toward the line for the yogurt place. "Come on, dad, come on," Cory repeated over and over. Frank was looking at the mall's janitor standing by the bathrooms, a dark-skinned, younger man who watched the people milling around the food court. The man nodded at Devon as she passed.
Serial rapist, Frank thought. He works here during the day and at night he snatched joggers off the street and drags them into his white van and he rapes and kills them.
An older man in a dark gray business suit was standing in line in front of Devon. He looked back at her, and then up to see if there were any adults with her. Pedophile, Frank thought. When he gets drunk at night he perps on his step-daughter but her mother won't listen to the child because she's too afraid it might be true.
What the fuck is wrong with me? Frank thought. The world is not filled with maniacs and child molesters. Look at all these people in the food court, going through their daily lives happily oblivious to all of the madness probably happening right next door, if not inside their very own houses. What is that like, he wondered? To not know the disasters that lurked around every turn and the horror people are capable of?
I want to be one of these people, he decided. Happily oblivious. The weed will probably help with that.
He looked back and the janitor had pushed his cart into the bathroom to clean it and the businessman in front of Devon was innocently ordering a strawberry smoothie and not paying her any attention. Frank picked up Cory and carried her to the Dairy Queen register and let her order whatever she wanted. He kept on carrying her even as she tried to balance the tall ice cream cone in her hands and keep the drops of vanilla from leaking over the sides. "Let me help with that," Frank said, taking a bite out of the ice cream.
Cory tried to wrestle his face away and Frank managed to sneak another bite in as he crossed the food court toward Devon. She'd reached the register by then and Frank was too busy trying to keep Cory from sticking her ice cream cone in his eyes to notice the woman standing directly behind Devon. As he came up to the front of the line he saw her from the corner of his eye, seeing the large shopping bags she was holding, seeing her long, flowing skirt and tight lycra tank top that showed off the sumptuous curves of her chest and hips. A light dusting of glitter covered her arms and the feline angles of her eyes widened as Ophelia and Frank looked at one another. "Hi," Ophelia said.
Devon turned around and looked at Ophelia with a cocked eyebrow, trying to figure out who her father was speaking to, but Cory was more direct, grabbing Frank's face with her sticky, wet hand and saying, "Who is that? Daddy, who is that? Who's the pretty lady?"
"This is daddy's friend from work," he finally said.
"That's right," Ophelia nodded. "So these are your little girls?"
Cory said hi and Devon waved lazily as she took her change from the cashier and picked up her smoothie with both hands. "Come on, Cory. Let's go sit down," she said.
Frank sent both the girls over to the nearest table and stuck his hands in his pockets and backed away slightly, forcing himself to not embrace her. Ophelia looked over at the table where the girls were sitting and said, "They're gorgeous."
"I know," Frank said. "Everyone says I'm in so much trouble in a few years."
"You have no idea."
"Listen, I've been going through some things. Some really major things. I'm sorry I fell off the radar."
"Okay," she said. "I was wondering."
His strength and resolve to do better was a massive dam that kept the roiling waters of his instincts firmly at bay, but by the second as he looked at her, the struts and rivets holding the dam together began to shudder. Water began trickling through the cracks in the walls. "Do you want to try and get together for coffee?" he said, knowing he shouldn't, saying it anyway.
Ophelia looked back at Devon and Cory, smiling at the way the little one's feet kicked in the air as she ate her ice cream. Devon turned her head slightly to look back at the two of them. "Your older one knows something," Ophelia said. "You don't think she does, but she's a lot more intuitive than you think."
"We're just two people from work talking to each other," Frank said. "What's there to know?"
"The whole time we've been together you've done nothing but push and pull your way in and out of this relationship. I don't know what you're running from, but now I can see what keeps you. You know, my dad left when I was Devon's age," she said. "Now look at me."
"Look at you? What do you mean look at you? You're an amazing person. Don't say that."
She smiled bitterly and decided she no longer wanted the smoothie or to be in the food court any longer. She picked up her bags and said, "You're just a man, Frank, and men are dumb, I should know. So I'm going to make the decision for you. Go take care of those girls. Forever."
He watched her walk away, heading for the exit and going through the doors without looking back. Cory was munching the top of her ice cream cone and Devon was staring down into the last remaining inches of her smoothie. Frank leaned down and kissed both girls on top of the head. Devon kept her head low, keeping her eyes pointed a little too intently at the chunks of fruit in her cup. "Did you want to go talk to that woman for a while? I'll sit here and watch Cory," Devon said.
"No. There's no need for that," he said.
"She looked like a princess," Cory said.
"No way," Frank said. "Anyone who knows anything about princesses knows there are only two people pretty enough to be called princesses in this whole place, and I'm sitting with both of them right now."
Cory beamed and Devon said, "Dad," in an exasperated way that was betrayed by her sideways, bashful grin.
Frank held up his finger and said, "Give me one second," as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He unlocked it and scrolled through his address book until he found Ophelia's entry. It had her email, her phone number, her birthday, her shoe size, and even, after a particularly wild night of recklessness,her ring size. Frank paused for a moment and studied the picture that appeared next to her name. She was lying on her bed naked, covering her breasts with one hand and staring up at the camera, her eyes as transfixing to him as they'd been that night. He scrolled over to options and deleted Ophelia from his phone, then stuffed the phone in his pocket and said, "Now I'm ready."
Chapter Eight
Reynaldo Francisco parked his police car in the station lot and told dispatch he was logging off for the day. He took his clipboard from the passenger seat and opened his on-board computer to read the newest email from Deputy Superintendent Tovarich. It was the one with the subject heading: IMPORTANT!!!!!!
Attention ALL Officers
Effective immediately, ALL OFFICERS are to do the following without exception upon completion of your shift:
All Officers SHALL write down their vehicle's mileage and how many miles driven that day
All Officers SHALL tally how many tickets they wrote that day (Warnings DO NOT COUNT)
All Officers SHALL tally how many calls for service they had that day
All Officers SHALL tally how many arrests they had that day
All Officers SHALL inventory their gear and assure it is in proper working condition
All Officers SHALL check their patrol vehicle to ensure it is fully fueled and contains all liquids including coolant, oil, transmission fluids, etc.
If you have ANY questions, comments, or concerns you are to direct them to MY office. This does not mean discuss it with anyone else BUT me.
Failure to comply with ANY of the above shall result in future discipline.
Deputy Superintendent W. Tovarich II
The words "All Officers SHALL" rang in Reynaldo's head like a tone poem as he went down the list with his finger and scribbled down the correct items. Once he finished going through that email, he opened up the next five in succession, reading them in the order they were delivered that week.
Monday: New Rules Regarding Saluting
Inferior Officers SHALL salute their superiors once per day upon first greeting, in or out of uniform, whether or not they are working, to include any rank greater than Officer such as Corporal, Deputy Superintendent or Chief.
Further, upon the entrance of any superior officer into the room, all inferior officers are required to stand until told to rest.
Tuesday: Clarification of New Rules Regarding Saluting
To clarify, all inferior officers SHALL salute and rise for their superior officers. Members of the superior rank are exempt from this rule.
Wednesday: Discussion of Police Department Matters FORBIDDEN
Effective immediately, all officers SHALL cease discussion of any and all internal matters (including policy changes) regarding this police department with ANY outside source. This includes any and all friends, family members, township employees, and township supervisors.
To ensure compliance with this rule, members of the police department are ORDERED AND DIRECTED to report any fellow member who may be in violation.
Thursday: Clarification of Discussion of Police Departmental Matters
Yesterday's rule applies to all personnel who have not been otherwise advised by the Chief of Police, W. Tovarich I.
As he read through the emails, his on-board computer dinged with an incoming message from the Deputy Superintendent. The subject heading read: Posting of Items in the Station
To All Officers:
Effective immediately, the posting of any items, flyers, posters, pictures, or other things, on any surface of the police department is hereby forbidden without prior permission from the Chief of Police. This includes desks, walls, doors, lockers, etc.
You have until tomorrow at noon to remove any personal items you wish to keep. After that time, they will be disposed of.
The police department is a professional environment and must be maintained as such at all times. It is not your "home" and does not belong to you, so do not treat it as such.
If you have ANY questions, comments or concerns you are to direct them to MY office. This does not mean discuss it with anyone else BUT me.
Failure to comply with ANY of the above shall result in future discipline.
Deputy Superintendent W. Tovarich II
He slammed the lid of his computer down and jumped out of the seat, hammering the code into the police station door to see several officers in the station silently loading pictures of their wives and drawings from their children into boxes. "This is absolute bullshit!" Reynaldo called out. Several heads turned to look at him, all except Officer Brian Boxer, who was dutifully wrapping newspaper around a framed picture of his dead dog, Bullhorn.
"How can you let this happen?" Reynaldo shouted at Boxer.
"What can the PBA do?" Boxer shrugged.
"I don't know, that's why I pay dues to the PBA so it is run by elected officials who can answer that question!"
"Look," Boxer hissed, "keep it down. Just go with the program and do your work and everything will be fine. This is just growing pains."
Reynaldo grabbed a handmade card sent to him by a little boy thanking him for saving his mother. It showed a crayon drawing of a police officer and the little boy holding hands. "How is this bad?" Reynaldo cried out. "How is this not professional to any fucking person who walks into this accursed place!"
Boxer suddenly looked up as the figures of the Deputy Superintendent and Corporal Donoschik filled the doorway of the interview room, staring at all of them. "Here," Reynaldo said, waving the little boy's card as he headed to the document shredder. "Is this what you want? Fine. I shred the fucking thing so nobody has to be offended by some little kid's appreciation."
Both men glowered at Reynaldo, who balled his fists and said, "What? You want to say something? Go ahead!"
Corporal Donoschik hooked his thumbs in his glossy leather gunbelt and said, "I believe your first mistake was forgetting to salute your superior officers."
Reynaldo turned on his heels and said, "Suspend me. I could use the free day off." He pointed at the other officers standing around watching and said, "All of you are damned cowards. I'm going home."
Twenty minutes later, Reynaldo was sitting in a bar drinking a tall, cold glass of beer when his phone rang. It was Frank. "I heard you let off some steam," Frank said.
"I couldn't help it."
"It happens. They'll get over it."
"Who told you?"
"Boxer. He asked me to check on you."
"Because he's too afraid to do it himself."
"Because he thought I'd have a better chance of getting through to you."
"I'm fine."
"Oh yeah?" Frank said, sounding disappointed.
Reynaldo picked up his glass and took another long sip. "Absolutely perfect."
"That's a shame. I was hoping you were angry enough to get in some trouble with me about the Fred Phelps case."
Reynaldo set his glass down immediately and said, "What time and where?"
They met the next morning at Frank's house at 0800 hours. Reynaldo showed Frank the file as he got into his car and said, "I brought everything. Now where are we going?"
"Immigrations," Frank said.
Reynaldo rolled his eyes, "Very funny. I'm in no mood for jokes, okay? You can bust my balls later."
"Who's busting balls?" Frank said. "I'm dead serious. We're going to Immigration. When Immigration and Customs combined, they absorbed all international child pornography investigations. I've got a friend down there who can help us."
"Oh. Well in that case, let's go."
Frank looked at him blankly, "Why did you think I was busting your balls?"
"Because that's what you do."
"But why would I be…Oh…you mean because you're Mexican," he said with a light smile.
"Si, senor," Reynaldo drawled.
"See, I didn't even think of that. My mind doesn't work that way, Reynaldo. I've evolved past such things now."
Reynaldo laughed and tapped the file on his lap nervously, "My God, it feels good to be doing police work again!"
Frank looked sideways at the younger man and said, "Speak for yourself, buddy."
Forty-five minutes later they arrived in Center City. Frank sprang the twenty bucks it cost to park in a garage because he didn't feel like driving around in circles until a spot opened up on the street. Parallel parking on the narrow city streets was a bitch anyway and he wasn't in the mood to waste any more time.
The eager look on Reynaldo's face was wearing on Frank. The badge pinned inside his wallet felt heavy and uncomfortable. After so many years of The Job, he found that it was easier to put down than he'd thought. And once put down, he was loathe to pick it up, or to pretend to be interested, and the sooner they'd passed the case off to ICE the better.
They headed for an office building in the middle of the block, its glass front marked in drab yellow letters that read Department of Homeland Security. Frank dropped his badge and keys and pocket knife in the security officer's bucket and passed through the metal detector without making a sound. Reynaldo held up his badge and pulled open his shirt to show the guards his gun. They waved him through and ignored the alarm when it blared. "You aren't armed?" Reynaldo said as they waited for the elevator.
Frank shook his head, "I never carry off duty."
"Why? That's not responsible. What if something happens and you need to take action?"
"I'll call 911 and be a good witness."
"What if someone is in serious danger?"
Frank shrugged, "Then I guess I'll have to do what I have to do."
The elevator dinged and they got on. "Not if the bad guy has a gun, you won't."
"When I was a kid, my old man carried everywhere he went, so he was always in cop-mode. We'd be driving down the street and somebody would cut him off and he'd follow that person just to scream at them. I'd be with him in the car and he'd be rolling down his window telling them what a stupid piece of shit they were. He'd always say, 'Do you know who the fuck I am?' Always the tough guy. One time we went to the movies and these kids were standing outside the theater talking. My old man heard them using the F-word and came unglued on them, got all in their faces, telling them what was what. I went to school with every single one of them. The next day, I got jumped in the bathroom."
"That sucks."
Frank nodded, "I was standing at the urinal, and this kid came up behind me and kicked me in the back. I was still pissing when they took turns hitting me in the back of the head, trying to get my zipper up and defend myself. It didn't work. To this day, I'm pee shy. Can't go if someone else is around me or talking too loudly. Sounds stupid, right?"
"No," Reynaldo said. "It doesn't. So you don't carry a gun because you hate your father?"
Frank curled up his face at Reynaldo's words and said, "What? No, I don't hate him."
"You hate cops."
"Most of them, yeah," Frank said.
"And yet you became one?"
"I became one because I thought I could do a better job of it. Turns out it's a lot more complicated than that."
The elevator opened on the sixth floor and Frank gave his name at the front desk and asked for Amelia Erndt. The secretary picked up her phone and said Frank's name, then hung up and said, "She'll be right out."
"Frank O'Ryan!" a woman's voice boomed from down the hall. Amelia stormed down the hall toward them, her short, squat frame hurtling forward atop six inch heels. She grabbed him in a wide hug, crushing him against her pendulous bosom and said, "You son of a bitch. What is this bullshit I hear about you trying to leave the police department?"
_preview.jpg)
