Shots Fired in the Melting Pot

by T. C. Clover

at his snarky face.”

  “What TV show?” Hector bemoaned in confusion. “Never mind; we don’t watch TV. We entertain ourselves in other ways.” The gangster stated with a dismissive wave of his right hand. “Do you really want payback on CKB?”

  Stoney nodded in affirmation and leaned backward, hoping that this would come to a peaceful ending.

  “Well, I don’t need a dead cop around here; it’s bad for business,” Hector concluded after a moment of consideration. “I tell you what, officer; if you want to walk away from here today, I can make that work. But you need to forget that any of this ever happened.”

  Stoney glanced down at his naked legs and nodded with enthusiasm to accept this condition.

  “Just one thing, though,” Hector began by holding up his right index finger in a warning, “if CKB posts any of this on the Internet, then you’re done. I don’t care if I have to take out everyone at your station; I’ll get you. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, I understand,” Stoney confirmed with reluctance, hoping that CKB wasn’t already on his way to doom them. “Can I go?” He asked with a faithful expression, lowering the pistol to his lap.

  “Yeah, one second,” Hector offered with a smirk for the first time, “I’ll have one of my boys give you a sat’ phone. If you really want to get back at the man, then call the number on that burner, and we’ll work somethin’ out.”

  The police officer felt calm throughout his body and was so satisfied by this result that he offered Hector his left hand to seal the deal.

  “Wash your damn hands, man. That’s disgusting.” The gang leader responded with outrage, turning to unlock the stall door and exit the bathroom. “Peace out, officer.”

 

  The Shots Fired Loft – Manhattan, New York

 

  Mike Farr sat on a tall cloth chair behind his desk in the production office portion of the loft. For the past half hour, he had been listening to a wild tale that Stoney was offloading like a hyperactive child. The director kept his fingers pressed together in a pyramid shape and twisted back and forth in his seat. He was clad in a formal black suit with a salmon tie that made him appear approachable.

  “So I need to make sure that CKB doesn’t upload that video, or we’re done!” Stoney reiterated for what must have been the seventh time.

  The Japanese police officer used his shaky right hand to drink from an open water bottle that had been left by an intern.

  “I haven’t seen CKB-“ Mike began to repeat himself but was cut off again by the frazzled policeman.

  “When is he getting back?” Stoney asked in a rush, gazing at the director with panicked eyes. “I need to stop him from uploading that: these guys aren’t screwing around!”

  “Yeah, but this can’t be the first time that you’ve been threatened by criminals.” The director chastised with a subtle grin, attempting to jar Stoney’s sense of pride. “I mean, what is so different about these guys?”

  “The Templars? Are you serious?” The officer replied with a stare of betrayal and dumbfounded shock. “These guys are…the guys that you should fear. Look, there is what we call a tradecraft criminal, and then there are real psychopaths. This is a hornet’s nest…that I might be able to survive, but I don’t want to find out.” Stoney finished with a disgusted scowl and raised his hands in the air as though Mike were the manifestation of incompetence.

  “Okay, I know that CKB is at the hospital having his ankle looked at,” Mike offered with a hint of mistrust. “We’ll make sure that video doesn’t get published.” The director turned left in his chair and crossed one leg over the other. “I’m glad you’re all right. We’ll get this handled. On another topic, we have your big reveal coming up in the next few days.”

  “Oh, Mike, I can’t do that right now.” The Japanese man protested with a wave of his left hand as he set the empty water bottle on the desk.

  “Look, I know you had a tough day, Stoney,” Mike waxed sympathetic with a Hollywood smile. “But let’s get serious here; you’ve had much worse in your years of law enforcement. And I know that this isn’t something that is easy for you to reveal to the public, but that’s why we have contracts. If you don’t go through with this, and put forth some showmanship, then I’ll sue you for breach of contract. In other words, you’ll get nothing for your time on this show, and we’ll go after your wages – maybe even your pension.”

  “You really are a snazzy little prick of an opportunist,” Stoney patronized with a demeanor of pride and hostility. “Fine, I’ll be your dancing bear for one episode.” He lamented with a blistering sneer and stood up to make an exaggerated exit from the office.

  “Stoney, I just want to remind you that your contract prevents you from taking any personal actions against me.” The television guru announced with a twisted smile, failing to maintain a poker face.

  The exhausted officer turned abruptly and raised his right hand toward the director in a handgun pantomime. He then fanned his left thumb repeatedly over the top of his right thumb like a gunfighter of the old west. This gesture was fast enough to force Mike to hold his breath, and he exhaled with the caution of a nuclear engineer upon seeing that it was a joke.

  “That’s how fast action can be taken on the streets.” The tormented police officer whispered to his colleague with an unexpected sadness in his eyes. “You don’t have time for paperwork in those moments. You only hope that you’re alive to do the paperwork later.”

  Mike nodded to show respect and felt guilty for misreading the alpha protector.

 

  Pier 94 – Hell’s Kitchen, New York

 

  Litz let her long brunette hair hang loose atop the smooth wood of a public picnic table. Her body was stretched across the extended burgundy planks in a relaxed pose as she discussed the mysteries of the universe with her friend Oslo Norway. There was a folded, brown paper sack on the table next to her right hip along with a half-empty bottle of water. She had gone for a run earlier in the day wearing black tights and an oversize pink T-shirt, which were now somewhat damp with sweat.

  Her longtime friend and mentor, Oslo Norway, had been named as such by his parents since his birth had disrupted their plans to travel to that city. Litz didn’t know the man’s last name but was aware that he had been homeless from the age of sixteen.

  Oslo sat on the edge of a pier just ten feet from where Litz was resting. His full beard seemed rugged and natural in the presence of the Hudson River. He was swinging his feet in the cool water as the sun warmed his pale, hairy legs. Oslo wore a red ‘Sunshine State’ T-shirt that someone had discarded long ago, and a pair of gray cargo pants that were rolled up to each knee.

  “Do you ever wish that you had kids, Oslo?” Litz wondered aloud as she stared up at the clear skies above New York.

  “Yep, the ransom money would do me good.” The homeless man said in jest without interrupting his playtime in the water. “I could live like a king for a few months if I got past the FBI.”

  “What is it about a man that makes them occasionally necessary?” She asked with an innocent smile.

  “Sometimes you just want someone there…to wash your windshield,” Oslo redirected in a positive tone. “I tried it last week on Broadway, but those people have no sense of humor. The ambulance driver told me to let him pass and didn’t offer me a tip.”

  “Why did my mother die?” The volatile woman questioned in a sad way, pushing her chin closer to her chest.

  “You know why,” he replied in a more serious tone and turned to confirm the expression of pain on her face. “There was no good explanation, Litz; it was her time.”

  “You’re not going to leave me, are you Oslo?” She teased her friend with the innocent voice of a 1920s movie star.

  “I might if you keep asking these stupid questions,” Oslo answered with a roll of his eyes as if the river were listening. “There’
s nothing to worry about, Litz, I’m forty-three-years-old.”

  “What happened to your dog?” Litz inquired as she raised her head from the picnic table and sat facing the sunlight.

  “He got laid,” Oslo responded with a shrug. “I guess that b**** had more to offer him than me, but I keep a plate handy for him. Are they gonna’ just stand there all afternoon?” The man inquired as he rolled his left hand into a fist and pointed his index finger at her security guards.

  Litz turned toward her security detail with the poise of an adventurous celebrity and placed her feet atop one of the benches. There were two men in navy blue suits that stood over twenty feet from where she and Oslo were talking. They remained silent and watched the surrounding areas, facing in opposite directions.

  “Oh, that’s just bulky Kevin and William,” she said in a casual manner and reached down to take a sip from her water bottle. “All female stars of the television show get a security detail when we’re filming during the week. There have been a few overzealous fans. What do you make of people these days, Oslo?”

  “I think they’re amazing and warm,” he retorted with a wide smile. “Everyone has been so generous and open with opportunities. Nobody is greedy, heartless or shallow. I walked into town the other day and this guy said, ‘Here, have a job; you seem to need one.’”

  “Wow, that is amazing!” Litz erupted with a genuine chuckle. “I love