In the Nick of Time

by Laveen, Tiana

  “Hi Denise,” he chuckled. “Nice to meet you.” He walked back into his bedroom, picked up his gray slacks, and slid them on. He didn’t miss how her dark eyes drifted to the ground, taking notice of his police badge lying underneath the pants he’d just snatched from the floor.

  Her lips curved in a smile.

  “So you really are a cop? Fuckin’ hilarious. I’ve never messed with a cop before.”

  He didn’t say anything, just buttoned his white Polo shirt and checked himself over in the mirror.

  “You’re Puerto Rican, too?” She grabbed her green overstuffed bomber coat and slid it on, pushed the hood back, and finger combed the curls around her ears once more.

  “Half. My mother was Puerto Rican. My father I believe was Sicilian.”

  She nodded in understanding. After a few moments, they made their way towards his front door, side by side, as if on one accord.

  “Seriously,” she said, looking over her shoulder, “I can take it from here.”

  “Nah, I can walk you out.” He ushered his dark hair out of his face with a sweep of his hand.

  “No, it’s fine, Rick. I’d prefer it this way, really. I could see on your face you had no idea who the hell I was. That’s my fault I guess…” Her lips twisted as her expression turned slightly jaded.

  “Nick…my name is Nick.”

  She burst out laughing, but he could tell the woman wasn’t the least bit amused at his revelation. Denise clutched the doorknob and opened the thing, causing a burst of light to enter and bathe them in the new day. He winced, felt like a damn vampire as the outdoor sunlight glowed and bounced along the nearby piles of hard snow.

  “You’re right. I need to be more careful,” was all she offered before she disappeared out the place. He watched the woman with the rounded ass bounce down the sidewalk, her coat hood flopping up and down. Her carefree black hair sprang with each step she took. When she became nothing more than a tiny speck in his like of vision, he closed and locked his door, and simply stood there with his palm on the thing, waiting… for what, he wasn’t certain. When he’d mustered the courage, he turned and looked around his place.

  Everything was as it should be, in its place. He walked past his kitchenette, paused, double-backed, and grabbed a trash bag from under the sink. From the living room decorated in earth tones, he returned to his contemporary style bedroom. He placed his hands on his hips and turned from side to side. The trash bag rustled in his grip as he moved about, hanging there like one large pocket ready to be filled with trick or treat candy…but it wasn’t Halloween, though he’d scared himself half to death. He began the process of tracing his steps, picking up things here and there…

  At least I used a rubber; coulda been worse I guess.

  He dipped low, clutched the wrappers, only to find a third one on the other side of the bed. Along his jaunt, he found a half bottle of lubricant, the contents spilling into his carpet, making a gooey mess.

  “Shit!” He snatched it up, pitched the damn thing in the trash then burst into his bathroom. He tossed the bag onto the tiled floor, grabbed a cloth, and thrust it under the hot water. As he stood there, turning the rag to and fro, sharp, fragmented images began to flood his brain. He recalled sitting on his bed, looking for a score. Just as the image became clear, it was replaced with him jumping happily from a knock at the door—special delivery; his pussy pizza had arrived. His chest tightened with anxiety as the memories became crystal clear…

  Denise had stepped inside. They spent little time in conversation before he led her back to his bedroom. They laughed about some things, quickly undressed, and before long, he had her legs open wide and was fucking the daylights out of her…

  “Ouch! Son of a bitch!”

  He was thrust out of his daydreams as the warm water became scorching hot. He shut the valve off, dabbed some soap onto the cloth, and headed to the small oil spill in the middle of his carpet. Dropping to his knees, he cautiously dabbed at it, careful to not push it further down into the fibers. He kept lightly tapping at the clear fluid, trying to break it down, but his body and mind were the ones deteriorating. Sucking in air, he paused, tried to see straight, past the tears forming in his eyes, but soon, his vision was completely impaired. He remained on his knees—a position of prayer—his back arched as he trembled and clutched the rag as hard as he could trying desperately to gather control of himself.

  “Oh God!”

  Out poured a rolling scream, and then another. It didn’t sound like him. Who else was in the room?

  No one, just him, kneeling in his filth, trying to clean up the evidence of a life gone wrong.

  “…I bet Ma sure is proud!” he taunted himself as he continued to scream out until he fell onto the ground in a haphazard sort of way, his chores cast to the side. He wished he were still ignorant, unaware what a true fuck-up he’d become.

  “This…has got to stop!” He beat his fist against the floor; his damn hand stung. “I’m tired…I can’t do this anymore!” He stood back on his own two feet and threw the cloth down onto the floor, as if it disgusted him.

  Nick, this is it.

  He collapsed onto his bed for a moment or two then rose once again, and grabbed his gun and hat. He looked at himself in the mirror, but didn’t put either of them on. Taking his wallet and keys, he marched out of his townhouse, slamming his door behind him.

  It’s time. No more excuses.

  As another angry, heated tear cascaded down his face, he made a promise to himself, right then and there, and this one he wouldn’t break. No, this was a special guarantee, one for cocaine dusted, pussy lusted, and Russian vodka trusted keeps…

  Captain O’Sullivan’s sullen cobalt eyes glistened with something Nick couldn’t identify just yet. On the man’s desk now lay his police badge, sporting a name he no longer recognized: Officer Nick Vitale. Beside it sat his hat and lastly, his polished Glock 19.

  “I’ve been in law enforcement for twenty-three years, Nick…twenty-three. This morning I get a call from Becky telling me you wanted to speak to me, and that I need to sign off on some paperwork, that one of our own needs to use his benefits package to pay for some drug rehabilitation. I think, ‘Okay, fine. It’s happened before.’” He shrugged. “I never thought the two announcements were about the same man! It was you of all people!”

  Nick pressed the tip of his tongue against his lower teeth, his anxiety mounting higher and higher. He turned away, needing a moment as the warmth of shame rolled over him, making him all hot and bothered.

  “I’ve dealt with a gamut of officers, from all walks of life here in the 73rd precinct.” Captain O’Sullivan began to count off his fingers, “I’ve had the know-it-alls, straight outta the academy. I’ve had the seasoned vets that come from someplace else and they get transferred here for fucking up at their previous job; it’s used as a punishment. I’ve had the hard asses who want to work B-Ville, so they can jump in on the action. The wannabe cowboys who bust some heads in so they look forward to all the crime and craziness over here and God knows there is plenty of it! Like people going crazy because a guy from another project walks through their turf, the bastards live right across the street from one another. It’s bullshit! Some of these officers believe they can just fuck around, and it will be validated and never questioned.”

  Nick nodded in agreement.

  “I get the immigrants, been here less than a few years, who think they are going to be a cop and make it better for their people. Then they find out the hard way, that’s just a big ass pipe dream and this is much bigger than anything they could imagine. I get the women who want to be treated as equals and show these suckers they can do the same shit the guys can, only ten times better. Sometimes they’re right…sometimes they’re wrong. I get the drunk cops, the ones that beat on their wives and kids as a stress reliever… and I get all the kinds in between. I’ve seen it all!” He slapped his hand against his desk. “But I feel like today—today, Nick, you’ve shown me some
shit I just can’t understand. You’ve been with me since you were twenty-one, Nick!”

  “I know…I know.” He lowered his head.

  “You were a damn kid! I vouched for ya, that petty thieving shit you used to do, I vouched for ya!” The old man’s jowls shook. “I saw something in you. You’re like a son to me! How could ya… how could ya keep something like this from me?!”

  “I know…” It was all he could say, all he could utter as more waves of dishonor and humiliation took him under.

  “Nick…I didn’t know.” The man calmed as he leaned back in his chair, the state of stock still overwhelming him, written all over his face. “You never struck me as a drug user. You were on time, each and every damn day. You didn’t reek of alcohol. None of that. Sure, we’d sit back and knock some beers down together, and you could drink most people under the table, I’ll give you that, but I had no idea it went this deep. I hadn’t seen a change in you. There are always signs, always… I’ve never seen ya drunk before, not ever! How long have you been doing this shit?!”

  He sighed. “The drugs? I’d say for about three or four years now… It was never consistent though, just here and there, but I’ve been doing it more lately for some reason.”

  “What’s more?”

  “Like…” Nick’s shoulders slumped. “The past few months it’s been practically every week; sometimes months would go past and I wouldn’t touch the stuff. But the drinking? That’s been going on since I was a little kid. I’ve been drinking since I was like ten or eleven years old… never missed a day since.”

  “Oh my God.” His boss sighed, closed his eyes real slow as he ran his hand over his freckled face, covering his lips just so. He rocked a bit in his seat, causing the old thing to squeak.

  “Are you sure no one is aware of this?”

  “I don’t know.” Nick shrugged. “I don’t think so. I was pretty careful but of course you just never know with these sorts of things.”

  Captain O’Sullivan nodded in agreement.

  “So uh, there’s my badge and everything. As soon as I walk away from here, I’m going to rehab, just as my paperwork states. They’re already expecting me. I called on the way over here.”

  The man’s lips curved in a slight smile.

  “Well, that’s interesting. I honestly didn’t expect you to go so soon. I figured you’d wait a day or two.” He paused, sizing him up. “You don’t like anyone to help you do anything, Nick. You’ve got a lot of pride.” He huffed, struggling internally with what Nick presumed were continuous bursts of all-out shock at the whole matter. “I’m proud of you, angry but proud, too. I’m sorry for yelling…” The man lowered his reddish brown hair covered head and shook it. “…It just threw me for a loop is all.”

  “Thanks…I know I’ve let you down, Captain. I’m tired of letting people down.” He gathered his thoughts. “I’ve tried to stop drinkin’ several times on my own and I never make it past a couple of days. It’s gonna kill me if I keep on. I’ve had hallucinations lately, can barely sleep; I’m doing crazy things. Had a physical, too… my body is starting to rebel. Strange things going on… things that don’t happen to men in their thirties. I gotta stop before I hurt someone.”

  “Or yourself, Nick.” The man pushed his gut into his desk and leaned forward, clasping his hands as he narrowed his eyes upon him. “You keep this shit between you and me, what I’m about to tell ya, you hear?”

  “Okay, got it.”

  “I’ve always thought highly of you. I can only think of four other officers, your peers, not just in our department, but others, too, that have an officer that matches your intellect, street savviness and ability to handle the job. You’re a damn good cop and you know it. You were born to do this. You’re one of the best I’ve ever had, and that’s just the simple truth. They just don’t make ’em like you anymore.”

  “You are painting me out to be something special… I’m not.” He looked down, wrapped in thick layers of shame that threatened to suffocate him. Every time the man spoke, he felt more and more humiliated. He knew it would hurt, bring him a sense of failure, but this took the cake.

  “You are somethin’ special, Nick. And because you never realized you were, it drew people to you, but it also caused you to be how you are right now.”

  Captain O’Sullivan had his damn number. He was thankful for the call…

  “I should have told you this stuff before… I should have complimented you, made you understand how important you are instead of riding you all the damn time.”

  “…It’s not your fault.”

  “Well, I’m telling you now, and I can only hope it’s not too late. You’re like an old, wise man trapped in a young man’s body, and that’s what I loved about ya, Nick. I think because you are from Brooklyn, like me, it definitely helped but not only that, you understand people from a psychological and sociological level. You’re also slick, a chameleon. That’s how you’ve been gettin’ over. It all makes sense now.” The man bobbed his head up and down as all the pieces came together for him right then and there. “You’re the type of fucker that can be caught red-handed with a bag full of blood covered money and say you found it in a church and it was given to you, free and clear… and people would somehow believe you.”

  Nick smirked and had a laugh. That was true, indeed. He tapped his lower lip nervously, itching for a cigarette.

  “Normally that sort of slickness isn’t seen as a good thing in this line of work, at least not from an administrative standpoint. It’s seen as a liability, but it works for you, because it makes you understand the mentality of many of the people we deal with on a daily basis. Why? Because you’re one of them. We’re one of them.” The man’s eyes narrowed. “You and I come from where they come from and have been where they are…in here.” He tapped his temple.

  “I’ll always love my people, Captain O’Sullivan, because that’s what they are…my people. Every single woman, man and child here in B-ville…”

  “Tell me somethin’ though, Nick. I have a question but first let me say that all of these compliments I’m giving you doesn’t stop the fact that right this second I’m so damn pissed off at you!”

  His anger rose up once more and slammed the room about, enraged, disappointed; he imagined morose, too.

  Nick nodded in understanding, “I know you are. I’ve been lying to you, indirectly, but lying all the same. What is it? What’s your question?”

  “How did you pass the drug tests all these years?”

  Nick shrugged. “There’s things you can take.” His heart shuttered, putting an invisible barrier between them. “They help mask some things. That’s only for the urinalysis tests though. I only smoked marijuana as a kid from time to time, so that wouldn’t show up, and the academy won’t stop you from being a cop if you smoked a joint or two in the past, as you know. I wasn’t usin’ other stuff back then… just drinking, and it hadn’t gotten to this level. It was the liquor and cocaine that did me in this time. I like to mix them from time to time, especially when real stressed out.” He paused to gather himself before continuing.

  “The cocaine wasn’t an all the time thing, I just recently started going in real hard on it, like I told you. That’s why you never knew I was doing it. Don’t beat yourself up about it.” He shrugged. The sound of light chatter, occasional bursts of laughter, and footsteps created a musical background to his vocational demise. The once familiar noises now sounded brand new, fresh, as if he’d never heard them before, and may never hear them again.

  “I can’t say the same for the alcohol, but no one knew I was getting high. I can swear to that. Plus…” He paused, not wanting to let his secret kitten out of the bag, but it scratched, clawed and hissed. He knew that no one, not even his damn self, knew who he really was. He was darkness with a voice, moving around like a grim reaper amongst the living, only his mission was not to off others, but to emotionally murder himself. He’d messed his life over for sport, taking his soul down. He’
d fucked himself over good ’nd royal. The monster that invited other monsters to seek and destroy…

  I fuck shadows…

  “Go ahead, you what?” His boss urged.

  “I uh,” he leaned forward, forced himself to look the man in the eye. “I discovered a way to find out the testing dates and always made sure I stayed away from the stuff around those times. I know how to pass a lie detector, too…as a just in case…gotta cross all your T’s and dot your I’s.” His lips twisted in an anxiety-ridden smirk. “I know that this is upsetting, Captain. I… I took those classes a couple of years ago as you know, and finished my criminal justice degree so that I could get a shot at my dream. But… I know this changes things; it changes everything.”

  The man looked at him in complete disbelief.

  “I guess this knocks me out of the box for promotion to homicide detective…”

  “Jesus Christ…” Captain O’Sullivan threw up his hands and briefly turned away. “That’s that sneaky liability shit I was talking about! You’ve got a criminal mind, you son of a bitch. Passing lie detector tests?! That’s damn near impossible!”

  “Yeah.” He scratched his head and sucked his teeth, feeling like a true blue conman, spilling his guts for the guy to see. He knew he could have just kept on pretending, maintained his job, scaled back on his usage, but he’d still be preoccupied and disturbed, running from the truth of his fucked up existence, and eventually, it would blow up in his face, leaving a powdery, white residue for all to see. This way, things happened on his terms. He would go out in the fashion he felt suited him. Like a damn boss…

  Outlaws…

  “It gets exhausting though, always looking over your shoulder,” he continued as he looked past the man and out the window behind him. The sun looked cheerfully yellow, mocking his memorial. “…Wondering if your mind slipped, worried about a possible random drug test that I knew nothin’ about.”

  “Random…” Captain O’Sullivan shook his head. “Yeah, right.”

  “Yeah, they were supposed to be, but seldom were they unsystematic if we just paid attention. So I’d lay off the cocaine even more so during those times and since I didn’t seem to have an addiction to it, not in the way many would think, it wasn’t really that big of a deal for me to leave it alone.” He took a deep breath. “I know you want an explanation for all of this, you want answers…but…I don’t have them, John. I just don’t have them.” He shook his head. “And I mean, Captain. I don’t have the right to call you by your first name anymore, like you’d tell me to do when we were alone, behind closed doors.”