Superbia 3

by Bernard Schaffer

  "Of course," he said. "I'll call him later on and tell him that's not a good idea."

  "I need you to do more than that, Dez! I need you to protect me here."

  "Okay," he said. "It's done. I'll call him as soon as we get off the phone."

  She took a long, quivering breath, letting the panic fade. Dez was going to call and make everything better. It would all be okay. "Thank you, honey," she said.

  "No problem."

  "So, do I get to see you soon?"

  "Um, yeah, I hope so. Things are really hectic right now though. We've got this court thing and a few drug jobs. You know how it is."

  "Right, sure," she said. "Okay, well I'll let you go then. You're going to call him now?"

  "Yep."

  "Okay. I love you," she said.

  "Me too," he said quickly before hanging up.

  Aprille slid her phone into her purse and headed for her car, digging in the small zippered compartment for the change purse it contained, fingers scrambling until they found one last remaining wax baggie at the very bottom.

  The phone rang in Chief Tovarich's office moments later and he said, "Well I'll be damned. She wasn't kidding."

  Junior set down his notepad and pen and leaned back in his chair, staring at the phone. "Are you going to take it?"

  "Of course. Do you think I'm scared of some US attorney?" He pressed the speaker button on his phone and said, "Chief Wally Tovarich, can I help you?"

  "Chief, this is Dez Dolos. I'm with the Philadelphia Task Force. One of your officers has been working with us for a while."

  "Aprille Macariah," the Chief said. "I was just discussing that with her. So what can I do for you, Agent Dolos?"

  "She told me you were thinking about taking her off the team to work patrol."

  "That's correct. Probably just for a little while, though. I'm not trying to disrupt your operation, Agent Dolos, but I've got a serious manpower situation here that I need to correct."

  "I understand," Dez said. "Since I've got you on the phone, what's the situation with Detective O'Ryan? He stopped showing up for meetings so I stopped calling him, but if he's still available I could probably use him."

  "Officer O'Ryan has gotten himself into a little bit of a situation, I'm afraid," Chief Tovarich said.

  "Oh really? What kind of situation?"

  "Let's just say that if he ever does come back to full duty, it will probably be short-lived." Chief Tovarich winked at his son and said, "If it means anything to you, I have several officers from Manor Farms who are highly experienced and would make tremendous assets to your team. I can send you their information if you like."

  "Sure. That sounds good, Chief," Dez said. "At the least, I can keep them on file if something opens up."

  Chief Tovarich looked at his son and waved for him to come closer and pay attention, "Unless you'd prefer to wait for Officer Macariah, that is?"

  "Nope," Dez said. "Between you and I, she will benefit from a little down time anyway."

  "I'm glad we're in agreement on this," the Chief said. "Have a good day, Agent Dolos."

  "You too, sir," and the line went dead.

  Chief Tovarich hung up the phone and leaned back in his chair, "We learned quite a few things from that phone call, did we not?"

  "Apparently the FBI doesn't think as highly of that chick-a-dee as she does herself."

  "Exactly." He looked at his son, "Is your resume current?"

  Junior shrugged, "For the most part, I think. Why?"

  "You want to go work with the FBI on that task force, don’t you? Get it updated and get it back to me, today."

  "Awesome! Thanks, dad."

  "Just watch your ass with those people down there. It's probably a lot of Philly trash that their PD wanted to bury somewhere, so they let the FBI worry about them."

  "Yeah, probably."

  "And one more thing. Just because she's a woman doesn't mean we are any more lenient, do you understand? I don't care how big her tits are or if she sucks your cock after the Christmas party every year. Everyone gets held to the same standard, regardless. That is how you maintain order."

  "I understand."

  Chief Tovarich looked at the clock again, "You hungry?"

  "Sure."

  "Let's go grab some lunch. You can drive me."

  "Sounds good, Dad."

  The help wanted ads were less than useful and Frank tossed the newspaper section into the passenger seat in disgust. The only thing he'd been qualified to do was mow lawns and be a security guard. For fifteen years he'd studied the craft of law enforcement and now specialized in complex investigations. With no college degree, a police academy certificate, countless felony arrests, his expert status as a witness for the courts and attendance at the most exclusive and prestigious schools in his field, he was qualified to do exactly one thing: Be a cop exactly where he was already working.

  And not just any cop. A brand-new rookie at a different police department making starting salary and taking his place at the bottom of the barrel for seniority and vacation.

  None of it seemed fair. If a plumber works for a company he doesn't like, he can just go be the same plumber somewhere else, Frank thought. It was the same for accountants, graphic designers, and any executive in the private industry. Not for police officers. No other police department in the country would offer him a highly-coveted position like detective or sergeant, not when they had their own guys sitting around knifing each other in the back at every chance in the hopes that they'd be promoted. You can be the most qualified, certified, experienced cop in the world, but you're stuck in the place you work at forever. Unless you feel like starting over, he thought. Or, you are a chief.

  How convenient. The fucking chiefs can go wherever they want, and normally for more money.

  He was two days into his vacation. Two days closer to either having to man up and quit or go back and suck it up. He'd looked into getting his CDL. First year truck drivers made a whopping thirty-five grand a year and were away from their families six weeks at a time.

  He pictured his little girls waving goodbye to him from the front porch as he pulled away in his big rig. Daddy didn't like the mean men at his work, honey, so that's why he missed you growing up. What's that? You're pregnant at fourteen and love the way heroin makes you feel?

  Frank picked up his phone and called Marcus. "I'm in. Send me all the reports and I'll help you however I can."

  "They'll be delivered to you tomorrow," Marcus said. "This kid's a good egg, Frank. You won't regret it."

  "A good egg who deals drugs," Frank sighed.

  "Just because that's what they're charging him with doesn't mean it's true. Do you need me to tell you how much sloppy police work is done on a daily basis? Look at it as your chance to clean up your own house a little."

  Frank laughed, "You're a silver-tongued bastard but you don't have to spin it for me, Marcus. I'm betraying my own kind. That's just how it is."

  "Sounds to me like they did you first."

  Frank said he had to go as a bell sounded and a flood of children burst forth from his daughters' school. He got out of car and stood by it, trying to pick them out from the sea of brightly-colored schoolbags and squealing, high-pitched voices. All of the other parents seemed to know what to do, but Frank was helpless, feeling like a discarded sandwich in a field overrun by fast-moving ants. Some of the damn elementary school students were almost as tall as he was.

  Finally, he turned around and stepped onto the front bumper of his car and then onto the hood, standing up straight and waving his arms, throwing up a flag in hopes that his crew would spot him. He ignored the perplexed stares of the other parents and the amused laughter of the kids. He wanted his daughters and that was that.

  Devon came charging across the school yard toward him, calling out, "Dad! Get down from there! What are you doing?"

  "Trying to find you and your sister," he called down.

  "You're in the wrong spot. Get down and I'll go
find her."

  "Okay," he said. She was mad, he saw. Embarrassed. A few minutes later Frank saw both girls coming back toward the car and he reached down to scoop Cory up and kiss her on the face. "Hi! I'm sorry I wasn't where I was supposed to be."

  "That's okay," she said. "Were you really standing on the car?"

  "Yeah. See the footprints on the hood?"

  "Cool!"

  "Can we just go?" Devon whined.

  Frank put Cory in the back seat and buckled her in, then raced around to the front of the car. "How was your day, guys?"

  "Good," they both said.

  "Did you take any tests?"

  "No," they both said.

  "Did you learn anything good?"

  "No," they both said.

  Frank waited for the long line of cars to wind their way out of the school's lot. "Did any ucky boys try to ask you on a date?"

  "No, dad. None of the boys in our class are interested in that," Devon sighed.

  "Yeah!" Cory shouted. "Brett told me he loves me and wants to get married but I told him we can't."

  "That's right you can't," Frank said. "Because boys are ucky."

  "No, because I'm marrying Jamal!"

  Frank looked in the rearview mirror at them both and said, "Jamal?"

  "She loves Jamal," Devon said. "He's all she talks about."

  "Jamal," Frank said quietly. "So…is he nice?"

  "Yeah," Cory said dreamily.

  "Good." He nodded and said, "That's the most important thing. So, what kind of work does he do?"

  "He doesn't work, he's in school."

  "And he doesn't work? By the time I was your age, I was already a doctor."

  "No you weren't," Devon said, rolling her eyes.

  "Sometimes we play doctor," Cory said.

  Frank's head shot up and he instinctively stepped on the brake so hard his car's front end dropped. "With Jamal?"

  "With all of us. At recess we all play animal doctor and take care of all the animals in the zoo."

  "Oh," Frank said, rubbing the side of his temple. "Right. That's a good game. Listen, do you guys want to go get ice cream before practice?"

  "Yeah!" they both shouted.

  "Sounds good." He turned on the radio and tried to stay quiet for the rest of the ride.

  The food court entrance at the mall was packed with teenagers who'd just let out from school and were standing around smoking and laughing to one another. Frank picked Cory up and carried her and held Devon's hand as he navigated them toward the door, trying to steer out of the way of any puffs of smoke. He heard a couple "fucks" and "shits" littering the air around the kids, the same way discarded cigarette butts were tossed carelessly on the sidewalk as they walked.

  He kept his head down and tried to not make eye contact with any of the teenagers, practicing what it would be like to not be a police officer any longer. I'm just a regular person going into the mall, he thought. I am going to ignore it and just keep moving.

  It was a skill he would have to hone, he knew. The same way he'd have to slow down when he drove and make sure to really stop at every stop sign. Soon, he'd no longer have a magical piece of tin in his wallet he could wave at any cop in the world and receive fraternal greetings instead of a massive fine. Soon, he'd be just another person without the obligations or permissions that came with being police.

  Maybe I'll smoke weed, Frank thought. It looks like fun.

  Frank got the girls through the front doors of the food court and he set Cory down and took a deep breath. "Okay," he said. "You want Dairy Queen or a sundae from McDonalds?"

  "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, kno
wing 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."