The Good Dom

by Paul Preston

  “You know, you look like a real man, with all your muscles and your scar. But a real man knows his priorities. A real man takes care of his wife, first. A real man would never choose a homeless street person over his own family.”

  “Bette, I told you. The other officer used excessive -”

  “Don’t you get it? I don’t give a shit about what happened to him! I could care less about the officer or the homeless guy! All I know is that I thought I married a real man when I actually ended up marrying a fucking pussy!”

  Though I was mad at her and insulted, I kept a lid on my temper. I didn’t escalate the argument by accusing her of not supporting me as her husband, not standing by me as my wife when I needed her the most. I just retreated into a somber silence. Despite my life falling apart around me I felt calm inside, still believing I had done the right thing. At least my conscience was clear. I was bitter however that my career, my life and now my marriage had fallen apart because I tried to do the right thing. It seemed too high a price to pay for following the rules of correct police procedure.

  Even the people I saw at church on Sunday morning, including the minister, knew about what happened and gave me the cold shoulder. It was the one place I thought I could find a sense of acceptance and solace, but all I got was more rejection. Bette was embarrassed to go with me since our old friends were there. So I dropped out of going to church as well.

  I still had my one friend left, Big Johnnie, to commiserate with. Even though he constantly busts my balls over the decisions I make, I know deep down he respects me. I helped him prepare for the physical part of our police training exam, exercising and jogging with him while we were at the Academy together. I think he always appreciated how I helped him lose enough weight and get in shape to pass the Endurance Test. We hung out every chance we got in this run down sports bar to watch baseball on Sundays and the Bears during the NFL season. As usual, both the Cubs and the White Sox were in last place again this year and he was in a cranky mood about it.

  “I told you man, you’re an idiot. I think those high school gangbangers sliced your brains as well as your pretty face when you were a kid. I hope you think it was all worth it Jimmy, losing everything because that old rummy got kicked in the ribs.”

  “Big Johnnie, you know, it’s just the way I am. I’ve always been this way. It may sound stupid to you, but why do we have rules if they’re not applied equally to everyone? The Policies and Procedures Manual specifically states -”

  “I know, I know. That’s exactly your problem Jimmy. You’re good with the books, you always were, but what you read in books don’t help you on the streets.”

  “Well, we’ll just have to agree to disagree. If the CPD creates rules and then chooses to ignore them when it’s inconvenient, then I don’t want any part of it.”

  “OK, pal. Just don’t go all Christopher Dorner on my ass.”

  Big J was referring to a famous case of a police officer in Los Angeles who had recently gone on a killing spree after being kicked off the force in circumstances very similar to mine.

  “Don’t worry Big J, I don’t even own a gun,” I said.

  “That’s funny. A cop who doesn’t own a gun. That makes perfect sense with you.”

  “I’m not a cop any more, Big J.”

  “You’ll always be a cop in my book Jimmy,” my friend said, patting me on the shoulder with his big meaty palm.

  I nodded and smiled. I was feeling sensitive lately, with all my problems at home. It felt like my heart was slowly being ripped out of my chest, ever since Bette and I started arguing. I know it sounds ridiculous for a grown man, but my eyes filled with tears at the kindness of Big J’s words. I didn’t want to start balling like a kid in front of my best friend, so I pretended to laugh as we watched the baseball trickle underneath the second baseman’s legs. I used a cocktail napkin on the bar to wipe my eyes before a tear escaped down my cheeks. It was good at least one person in the entire state of Illinois had my back. It had been so long since anyone had said anything nice to me. I ordered another beer for my friend and a soda water for me, even though I was basically living in credit card debt at this point. At least the drinks were cheap at our favorite dive.

  It wasn’t long after my meeting with Big Johnnie that my life completely fell apart. After a scheduling error one night, the security company had overstaffed the mall I worked at and sent me home. When I arrived I caught my wife having sex with some guy she met at her new job. I stood frozen in the doorway, 200+ pounds of solid muscle, my arms folded across my chest, staring down at the guy on our marriage bed. When he turned around to see the scar across my face and the veins bulging out of my biceps, he nearly had a heart attack trying to get the hell out of my apartment. I suppose the scene would’ve been funny if it wasn’t happening to me.

  It was odd how composed I was about it. I went into the kitchen, sat down and poured myself a cup of coffee, black. Perhaps I was just too numb to react or had immediately buried my shock and pain at what I saw. It was just another shitty thing to happen during a very bad six months in my life. I had been with Bette for almost 6 years and I had never cheated on her, not once, not that I ever had the opportunity. But I had never even cheated on her in my mind or fantasized about other women. Bette was the only woman I had ever loved, the woman I lost my virginity with, and she betrayed me. My wife cried and apologized over and over, saying she felt lonely with me being away at night, that we had been constantly fighting, we hadn’t been intimate in months, it wouldn’t happen again, etc… Despite her tears I refused to speak or make eye contact with her. She kept telling me how upset she was about me losing my job at CPD, as if that justified her infidelity. Eventually she lost her temper.

  “If you hadn’t lost your job, none of this would’ve happened! You didn’t even get mad at the guy you caught taking advantage of me in your own home! In your own bed! Like I said before, you’re a fucking pussy!”

  I shut my eyes and imagined slapping her for insulting me again. In my study of criminal statistics, I knew male crimes of passion motivated by infidelity of a girlfriend or spouse accounted for a high percentage of murder and manslaughter cases each year. Bette was such a petite woman I could unintentionally snap a vertebrae in her neck even with a light slap. I took a deep breath, finished my coffee, stood up and went into the bedroom. As I packed my suitcase, I tried not to look at the ruffled sheets on my bed. Bette followed me around the apartment, shouting at me the whole time. I know she felt bad about what happened and wanted to provoke a fight so I could get back at her, but I didn’t trust myself alone with her at that moment.

  I left the apartment and took a drive. I pulled over in a parking lot and called my friend Big Johnnie. I could’ve gone to a hotel for the night, but I didn’t want to be alone. Even though I woke him up from a dead sleep in the middle of the night, Big J and his wife were kind enough to let me crash on their couch. It was a hell of a nice thing to do for me and I’ll never forget the kindness they showed me that night.

  I filed for divorce the next morning with the same lawyer I was using to sue the CPD.

  I always tried to do the right thing, live a moral life, go to church every Sunday. I got married, joined the police force to protect and serve the public like the two generations of Jefferson men did before me. But despite all that, everything in my life fell apart. I lost my family, my wife, my job and my standing in the community when I decided not to look the other way when the homeless man was kicked in the ribs. I’ve never spoken to my family again and my divorce went through months later. It was lucky we didn’t have any children yet.

  The next evening at sunset, before I went to work my night shift, I drove to the shoreline, walked over to the water and threw my wedding ring with the gold band as far into the murky darkness of Lake Michigan as I could. I walked back to my car which had started leaking oil and drove to work. I was pushing 30, alone and nearly ruined financially. Despite how humiliating it was for me to do it, I eventually
had to stop paying my student loans and credit card bills in order to keep paying the mortgage on the condo. I kept getting calls from my creditors about renegotiating my debt.

  My Superior Court date was set almost nine months later. During trial preparation, something finally broke my way. My lawyer uncovered a key piece of evidence in my favor. Going door to door in the buildings near the liquor store in a vain hope to find a witness to the beating, my lawyer struck gold. A little old lady who lived in an apartment directly across the street saw the homeless man get kicked by the police officer. The lady had always felt bad about what happened, but no one had spoken to her during the investigation. My lawyer convinced the lady to testify about what happened and she was happy to help. What’s more, although the outdoor security camera footage only recorded me dragging the homeless man’s body away from the front of the store, the lady had made a tape of her own. She was an amateur photographer and liked making videos. When she heard the sirens, she started filming the incident with the man, including the kick, from the minute we arrived. She had saved the original footage. It was all caught on tape!

  With the woman’s testimony and the video evidence of the policewoman’s use of excessive force on the homeless man, we had a strong case for my wrongful termination from the CPD, as well as police abuse against the homeless man by Officer Wagner. CPD lawyers settled out of court and I was awarded $750,000 for my suit and the emotional damages that resulted. I insisted that part of the deal was Officer Wagner would be demoted to an office job and forced to attend Anger Management classes before returning to her beat. The case was sealed, so no one ever found out about what happened. The CPD was happy to pay me off to keep what happened out of the papers. Part of me wanted to refuse the money and expose the corruption of the department, but I was deeply in debt and needed money to be able to start my life over. Also I felt if the story hit the papers, it may lead to a greater distrust for the CPD and a perpetuation of inner city violence. Despite my mixed feelings about it, I decided to take the money.

  When the money was in my account, I drove around the neighborhood of the liquor store, looking for the homeless man again. I figured he deserved a significant amount of the settlement. I saw no trace of anyone who looked remotely like him, so I started conducting interviews with homeless persons I saw on the street. Having a large deep scar running across my face proved to be a disadvantage, in this case. Everyone was too frightened to talk to me. I stopped in at the homeless shelters and soup kitchens in the area, but no one recognized him based on the small grainy photograph I had developed from the video. After several days of trying, I gave up my search once again. I wondered if he was still alive. The memory of him getting kicked in the ribs while I compliantly stood by and watched continues to haunt me to this day.

  I tried to call my ex-wife Bette, but she never answered the phone. I left several messages about how I won my wrongful termination suit and how I wanted to help her pay off the mortgage of the condo with the money from the divorce settlement. The truth was, despite her infidelity, I still loved her and wanted to get back together with her. I thought perhaps without the financial stress we could try to start over as a couple. I wasn’t even that angry anymore that she cheated on me.

  Since she never answered the phone or returned my calls, I drove out to the condo and waited until she got back from work one evening. I know it was a foolish and pathetic thing to do, but I just had to see her. I had a check for 250,000 dollars made out in her name and a bouquet of her favorite purple flowers to give her. I was hoping she would agree to see me again, now that we would have financial security. When I saw her park and get out of her car my heart started pounding in my chest. I approached her slowly from across the street.

  “Bette. Hi!” I said, smiling and raising my hand.

  When she saw me she started walking with a fast gait toward the entrance of our complex.

  “Wait Bette! I just want to talk to you for a minute!”

  She spun around to face me in front of the steps to our apartment. I wanted to tell her how pretty she looked with her new hairstyle and attractive dress.

  “What in the world do you want to talk about Jim? We’re divorced.”

  “I know, but I won my case.”

  “You took a shitload of money from the force, I heard. Good for you.”

  “But don’t you see? I was unjustly fired. CPD settled the case out of court. I got the money because the lawyers knew they were in the wrong for firing me. There was video evidence of -”

  “What are you doing here Jim?”

  “Did you get my phone messages? I have a check I want to give to you. To help pay for -”

  “I don’t want or need your money Jim, thank you. I was awarded title to our condo in the divorce settlement. It’s my responsibility to pay the mortgage now, not yours.”

  “I know, but -”

  “You took that money away from the service which supported my family, as well as yours, all our lives. I’m sorry if I’m not excited about your so-called victory.”

  I took a step closer to her. I thought perhaps if we could just embrace…

  “But Bette, they have insurance companies which cover the loss of -”

  “Don’t come any closer Jim. And Christ! Would you just leave me alone? Enough with all the phone calls and surprise visits! We’re divorced now. We have no kids so there is absolutely no reason for us to talk to each other ever again. We’re done. Our relationship is over. Do you understand? I never want to see you again.”

  “But I thought we were friends. Now that the court case is settled, I thought -”

  “What did you think Jim? You thought if you waved a check in front of my face I would fall back into your arms?”

  “You know it’s not about the money. We’ve known each other for over six years, since college. It was good between us, wasn’t it Bette? I thought… I thought you liked me.”

  “I did. I did like you. I liked the fact that you were a cop. A damn good one. That’s what I liked most about you Jim. And it allowed me to overlook… your appearance.”

  Feeling the old familiar shame, I glanced down.

  “I know the scar makes me look ugly. I always respected that about you, Bette. That you loved me and accepted me… despite the way I looked.”

  “Really Jim? Is that what you thought?”

  I looked up into her eyes, hoping there was still a faint spark of feeling for me. She shook her head and smiled.

  “Why do you think I turned off the lights every time I got into bed with you at night?”

  Her words stung, like the final knife thrust twisting inside my guts. I looked back down at the cement.

  “Look, I did care for you, once. I married you didn’t I, despite the way you look. But when you got kicked off the force… I don’t know. My feelings for you changed. I’ve moved on with my life now. I’m dating other men. It’s time for you to move on too. Don’t attempt to contact me again.”

  “But Bette…”

  She didn’t wait for my response. When I looked up she had gone into the building. The bouquet slipped out of my fingers, the pretty purple flowers falling to the sidewalk.

  Not long after the humiliating encounter, I heard through Big Johnnie that Bette was engaged to be married, to another cop of course. After hearing the news, I started avoiding the city of Chicago whenever possible. Every time I see the skyscrapers in the distance, it reminds me of Bette, the homeless man, and the loss of my job and identity as a police officer. I stay the suburbs now. I don’t even look in the direction of the city.

  Chapter Two

  Eloise

  I thought it best to try to forget Bette and move on with my life by focusing my mind on starting some new kind of business with the settlement money. With the help of a realtor I impulsively bought a cheap old ugly brick building off the highway about 30 minutes out of town and renovated it. It was a rundown piece of shit and suited me perfectly. I got a good price and paid for it in cash, s
o I didn’t have to deal with a mortgage. When I bought the building I had no idea what I wanted do with it, other than open up some kind of store, a hardware store or something like that. It was pretty foolhardy of me to invest so much cash in the property without even a rudimentary business plan, but I wasn’t thinking clearly at the time and I was still fighting off feelings of despair about my life, career and marriage falling apart at the same time. It didn’t really matter to me whether the investment worked out or not.

  After looking at the stiff competition from Home Depot and Lowes, I decided to become a bartender and open up a bar. What other career choice does a disgraced ex-cop have? By the time the interior was renovated, I applied for and received a liquor license. I paid off all my credit card debt and student loans and still had about $50,000 left in my bank account. After taking a bartender’s class and learning how to mix drinks, I was ready to open. The location wasn’t exactly ideal for a neighborhood bar since the building stood alone off the highway and there would be no walk-by business. I guess I should’ve thought of that before purchasing it, but it was a little late now. At least there was plenty of parking. I thought about some signage, but couldn’t decide on exactly what kind. I ended up just leaving it as is, with the large white numbers of the street address painted on the top of the building as the only indication of the bar’s location. I trained as a cop. A marketing genius I am not.

  Two weeks before the bar was about to open for business, it didn’t even have a name for it and I was the only employee. I finally came up with the name from a discussion I had with Big Johnnie when he dropped by one day during the restoration.