by J. M. Madden
Young cops in his father’s Department always drove muscle cars or pickups with stick shifts. In either case, they didn’t hold a candle to the souped-up Ford with the bench seat Zak had in high school. His dad had helped him restore it. She loved the smell of the old leather seats and the way the crackle of the radio sounded as they parked and watched the lights, as if trying to find their story out there amongst the strings of twinkling gold and silver. There wasn’t any way to describe their relationship, really. They’d stare out at the jewel display, breathing hard, aware of the other, touching on that crackled leather seat. In the end the sirens always spooked him, as if her dad was sending a warning to him just before he did what he was no doubt going to do. She liked their little routine. Zak would protest, saying they shouldn’t get so physical again, and, in the end he’d lose to Amy’s persistence.
“We never talk,” he’d said one time.
“Seriously? You want to talk? With me?” Amy let her eyebrows drift up into her bangs. “Do you know how many guys want to take a taste of these?” She had pulled her shirt up and when Zak tried to take just a discrete peek, it was all over. His hunger burst forth like an exploded water balloon. They couldn’t get naked fast enough. Several times he fucked her before she could stop giggling at his urgency.
They never talked about what it meant. It was just assumed it was only sex, not a lifelong commitment. Back then, that was all it needed to be. As Amy looked outside her window, listening to Rich describe how awesome her father was and what a good leader and example he set for all the young recruits, Amy realized for the first time that she missed those carefree days. She considered, briefly, that perhaps it had meant something deeper, but then she brushed that consideration away like a dust bunny.
She let herself out of the car before Rich could get around to her side. “Dammit, Amy. I told you to let me get it.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Rich. I keep forgetting you are a gentleman. Just not used to it is all.” She smiled up at him and she could almost see his buttons melt as his chest extended. She gave him her hand as a peace offering.
They walked across the bumpy lawn area that sometimes doubled as a Rugby field to the gathering of long tables covered in red and white checkered oilcloth. She heard her dad’s gruff voice carry from the barbeque pit he usually manned, followed by several deep guffaws and some back slapping. He was a well-liked Chief, Amy noted, but he also had a temper and never forgot a betrayal, no matter how small. The respect he earned was more derived from his boundaries than his easy going nature.
Out of the corner of her eye, Amy saw that he’d noticed her arrival with Rich.
“Going to pay my respects to the Chief,” Rich said to her ear as he gave her a little squeeze on her upper arms.
“Fine,” she smiled back at the young policeman as she stifled a burst of irritation.
Margrit joined her. She’d come alone, as usual.
“Ginger Cooper. Not from here,” Margrit said, her cheeks bunched like those of a hairless chipmunk stuffed with peanuts. For a second, Amy wasn’t sure what she was referring to.
“Where’s she from?”
“Listed an address in San Diego.”
“Oh.” It wasn’t what Amy wanted to hear, finding out a girl from where Zak was stationed had come all the way up to give her competition. Amy knew she didn’t have any claim on Zak, but if this stranger was something special to him, she needed to know, for her own edification.
“Jealous?” Margrit’s horn-rimmed glasses and frizzy hair made her look dorky, like a librarian.
“Hardly.”
Margrit sighed and looked over at the gene pool, most of them with wives and children. “You don’t fool me a bit, Amy. You’re as addicted to him as he is to you.”
“Now you’re talking nonsense,” Amy said as she moved on.
THREE
On the way home from the hospital, Zak’s mother headed over to an attorney’s office. Zak had kept mum all during the hospital visit, halfway expecting they’d get a call or the police would show up saying they were going to arrest him. His mom seemed to be on the same wavelength and mirrored his silence.
He’d needed this chance, and now perhaps it was all going to be taken away from him. After finally getting himself together, going through the Navy’s basic training and an A school, he was finally allowed to try out for the Teams, something his recruiter had promised him. The Navy said they didn’t know anything about that promise. When he tried to reach the recruiter, the guy was gone.
So he’d begged and insisted, passing up opportunities to go to Submarine School, based on his test scores which were the highest in the class. He didn’t care. He wanted his shot at the SEALs. Finally his orders had come through after months of arguing and fighting with the bureaucracy. It would totally suck if today, because of one fuckin’ going away party and a pissed off father of his ex-girlfriend, all of that was going to take away the one chance he had to turn his life around.
Weston Stark was a tall man, easily six-foot-five or so. He loomed over Zak and squeezed his hand like he was at an arm wrestling competition. The handshake hurt like hell.
“Congratulations, son.” He motioned for the two of them to take a seat in front of his desk. Zak resisted the urge to flex and unflex his fingers to determine if any of them were broken.
“For what?” Zak shrugged as he lowered himself to the chair. “For ruining my father’s car?” He could feel his cell buzzing from messages he’d not picked up.
“No. For enlisting in the Navy. Your mother is quite proud of you. I’m an old friend of hers from college years, you know.” Weston gave a feral smile at Zak’s mother while she stared down at her lap.
“Well, that must have been yesterday. I doubt today she’s very proud of me now,” Zack said, trying to get his mom’s attention.
“So what line of work are you going for?” Weston was wound up tight, sitting on the edge of his desk, still looming over both Zak and his mother. His suspenders held up expensive dark blue suit trousers. He wore cufflinks, something that wasn’t in Zak’s wardrobe either.
“I’m starting BUD/S training next week. Qualification to become a SEAL.”
“That right?” Stark let his eyebrows raise nearly to his hairline. “Wow. That’s admirable. Best of luck with that. A tough course.” He quickly glanced between the two of them, his mother still examining her fingers.
“Thanks.”
“What made you decide to become, or at least try out for the Teams?”
Zak remembered the day he’d read the article about the kid from Petaluma who had become a Navy SEAL. Ten years ago he and Zak played on the same soccer team for a bit. The boy went on to distinguish himself, and then was killed on his last deployment. Something in Zak’s DNA kicked in, and he realized it was time to go prove himself. Though living in Santa Cruz, he snuck up and attended the funeral, dodging local people who would recognize him. Their old coach was there, though. Coach Bardy gave Zak a heavy dose of reality.
“You’re a fuckin’ screw up, Zak. Had all the potential Joel had, and you just threw it all away.” The coach was legendary for his in-your-face sidelines soccer dress-downs, when they were skinny kids just trying not to cry in front of all their teammates. It was what ultimately pushed Zak to football from soccer.
Bardy went on talking about his friend, the homegrown hero, and how Zak didn’t have the balls to make it as an elite anything and would never measure up. As the man walked away, Zak was shaking in his shoes, fisting and unfisting his hands, tightening all the muscles in his upper torso. There and then, he decided, with the deepest conviction he’d ever had, that he’d live to make this man wrong.
Stark was still staring at him when Zak looked up. Even his mom was waiting for him to answer the question.
“Just something a man’s got to do, I guess. My rite of passage.” He carefully calmed his breathing, but his insides were boiling.
Stark crossed his arms over his flat abdomen and s
lowly nodded, like he expected a longer explanation. Zak had never told anyone about this decision, and wasn’t about to do so today.
“Mr. Stark, thanks for your time, but am I going to need a lawyer, sir?” He held his breath for his answer.
“Good question.” Stark said as he pointed his forefinger to Zak like a gun, winking his left eye. With surprising speed, he whipped around the desk to sit in his wine-colored leather chair. Zak sensed the man had been an athlete at one time. He methodically laced his fingers between each other as if it was an art form, resting his forearms on his leather blotter perfectly centered in the middle without any other adornment except for an old snowglobe of a Christmas scene. The globe was missing nearly a third of its liquid and seemed out of place in the office. When Zak focused on it, Stark picked it up and placed it on the credenza behind him like he’d left it out by mistake.
“You live under a lucky star, son.” Stark used a lot of big words and said several sentences before Zak realized the likelihood of charges being pressed were minimal. “They could still come after you, but I have it on good authority they’re not looking to cite you. I think holding you was just to shake you up a bit, to be perfectly honest.”
He felt every muscle in his body relax with the relief that the accident wouldn’t taint his chances for the SEAL training. That took the number three concern from Zak’s mind. Number two was still the well-being of Ginger. His biggest worry was the confrontation that would in all likelihood take place today with his father.
“Seems your blood alcohol came back clean.”
“I told them I wasn’t drinking.”
“The young woman you were with was way over the legal limit, poor thing.” Zak saw the feigned sadness in Stark’s face, like that of an undertaker.
“I’ll bet.” Zak also knew that was the only reason she’d agreed to go home with him. At first it had been so she wouldn’t have to go home with one of his buddies who were all shitfaced. But after she kissed him and perhaps misinterpreted his meaning, he decided to go right along with the little charade and let the drama unfold.
“I think the fact that you were a Navy guy garnered you some points, son.”
Thank God for a little break, at least.
“So like I said, your mother brought you in here to beg for me to represent you in what was looking like an ugly, ugly case.” He emphasized ugly like the preachers he saw on television. The more time Zak spent around Stark the less he thought of him. The word “beg” stuck in his craw.
“Well, that truly is good news, then.” Zak put his hand on his mother’s shoulder and squeezed, silently asking her to look back at him. He was rewarded with a tired gaze followed up with a smile. The big elephant in the room was that there was still no cause for celebration.
“We even have a good Samaritan who came forward and said she witnessed everything, said the melon truck driver hit you. She’s a security guard at the Junior College so she’s a credible witness.”
Stark leaned back in an arch, hands clasped behind his head, elbows out to the sides, looking as pleased as if he’d just told them they’d won the lottery and were millionaires.
Zak nodded. “Okay, then. All I have to do now is go see Dad. Might as well get this over with.” Zak stood up and his mother popped up right beside him. Stark came to his feet and leaned over the desk to present a card.
“You make sure your father calls me in case he has any trouble with the insurance company. I have all the information about the woman who was the eye witness, and I’d be happy to share it with him, if he likes.”
“Thank you,” his mom said as she turned. Zak could tell she was trying to be polite, but when she took his arm, her fingers clutching his forearm, he could tell she wanted to get out of Dodge quick.
Zak held up Stark’s card and waved goodbye. “Thanks for your time, sir,” he said as he ushered his mother safely out of the office.
He helped his mother down the brick steps nearing the parked car. Zak finally found his voice. He was always careful with his mother’s feelings. She was the only one in the family who supported and believed in him, but she was in a lonely crowd of one. “Geez, Mom, a friend from college? The guy’s a shark.”
“Was then too,” she answered. “Don’t ask.”
“I just can’t see—”
She stopped him before he could finish. “I said, don’t ask. He’s good at what he does and let’s just leave it at that.” She grabbed his arm and they continued to the car.
Zak started to chuckle. “Mom, you got a little bit of the bad boys in your blood, I see.”
“I said, shut up.”
But Zak could see the little quirk upward on her lips. She was about to smile and really didn’t want to.
They drove to the Chambers’ residence in silence. Just before they pulled up, Zak dialed Ginger’s cell and got her voicemail.
“Hey there, Ginger. This is Zak. Just callin’ to see if you’re okay and all. I’m so sorry about last night. They told me you were released today, and I just wanted to check in. Give me a call, if you could.”
He ignored the several other messages left by his friends. There would be time for that later on. He’d probably need their company soon, after his visit with his dad.
Zak saw a car door open across the street and noticed Amy Dobson walking toward him. He got out quickly, hearing his mother mumble something. She exited the car and proceeded up the walkway to their house ahead of him. Amy waved to her and got a brief return gesture as his mom continued to the house without even pausing.
His ex-girlfriend was looking attractive in a short black and white polka-dot dress with a neckline he usually liked, showing off her cleavage. He braced himself for an insult, but despite his internal alarm, his unit was reacting, just like every time he saw her. He sighed, but that didn’t ease the tension in his body. He’d just dodged a bullet with the accident, and now Amy’s presence threatened to drag him back into trouble. All his past poor decisions loomed. He didn’t need another one.
She looked up at his bandaged forehead and briefly scanned below to the rest of his body.
“Hey Amy. Today’s not a good day.” He heard the front door slam shut, which distracted him until he looked back into Amy’s eyes.
“I can see that, Zak. Glad to see you’re not too hurt.” She peered around him to examine the car. “Where’s your girlfriend?”
“I don’t have a girlfriend.”
Amy nodded and stared at her red toes peeking out from high heeled sandals. When her head rose, their eyes connected like they always did, flaming something in his gut that wasn’t healthy, like an itch he could never scratch. He gave up trying to analyze it. It was just chemistry.
He had the strength to step back. Zak knew it also wasn’t fair to her. Why start something he couldn’t finish? Besides, didn’t she deserve more respect than that? He just needed to keep that up a little longer, and she’d be gone forever. “I’m just here for the day, headed back down to San Diego before I finish my training, Amy. I’m not back in town.”
Her lip curled, and her left eye squinted. Zak looked away down the street trying to find something else to focus on.
“You have time to stop by my place later? I got a couple of things I wanted to discuss with you.”
“Nothing to discuss, Amy.” He was surprised his resolve was holding.
She rolled her head back, raising her eyebrows. “You never did like to talk much, Zak, but I kinda like it now.”
“Well, that’s a good thing then. Look, I’ve got to go. My folks are waiting. If I do anything tonight, it will be with Stan and Roger and the guys.”
“And the little girl you brought up from San Diego?”
“I doubt that very much.” He wasn’t going to tell her she was Roger’s little sister and had flown up to attend a family function.
“Love to see you in that uniform.” She stepped closer to him but didn’t touch. “Even better out of—”
He grabbed he
r wrists before she could lay her hands against his chest. “Amy, you got me all wrong. Those days are gone. I’m not that man anymore. I have a whole new life I’m going after, and I’m not interested in anything here. Anyone, either.”
He released her wrists and watched as she stood before him with her mouth open, those red kissable lips gaping like she’d just seen a ghost. Her hands went down to her sides. He walked past her and up the steps to the front porch of his parents’ house, never looking back.
FOUR
Amy raced back to work, arriving a full half hour late from lunch. Her boss wasn’t back yet herself, so she was a bit relieved, but she’d stay the extra thirty minutes just in case anyone else was keeping score.
She knew where they would in all likelihood go tonight. Something told her that if she didn’t see him one more time before he went off to the Navy, she’d never see him again. Amy wasn’t sure why that was important. But it was.
In the two years since they’d graduated high school she had been restless. She should have gone away to college like so many of her friends had done. But she stayed behind and attended the Junior College, waiting.
For what?
With her mother gone, her father had wanted her to stay in the big house just so he wasn’t alone, and at first she agreed. He was lonely after the long battle with cancer her mother had gone through all during Amy’s high school, and she secretly hoped he’d start dating again. But his work seemed to occupy all of his time. He seemed to lose all interest in women, and began working such long hours she didn’t know when to expect him home anymore.
Being picked up and dropped off at the Chief of Police’s house was creating a major damper on her love life. But she didn’t want to confront him about it, especially to tell him that. The new recruits on the force were safe for her, because they dared not act out of turn for fear of their jobs. But she wondered how much of their attention was just brownnosing and how much was serious.