Unstoppable

by Scott Hildreth

  “What the fuck? Kleitz, there’s another one here on the ground. Big boy here just kicked him. Keep your goddamned hands where we can see them,” the officer screamed.

  “They’re behind my head, just like you said,” I responded as I rolled my eyes.

  Police officers in Texas will shoot first, and ask questions later. The entire state, citizens included, is a gun friendly, gun happy, and gun toting society. I don’t have a tremendous affection for police officers, and I’m sure I never will. As the officer placed his hand cuffs on my right wrist, he yelled at one of the other officers.

  “He’s too god damned big, Kleitz. I need another pair of cuffs. I can’t get him cuffed with one pair,” the officer screamed.

  As the second officer approached, he screamed, “Parker! Weapon at your feet!”

  I have no idea why he felt the need to announce it, screaming and making all of the other officers nervous, who were now climbing over the bushes, coming through the parking lot, and walking in from the street. As he screamed, they uniformly pulled their weapons.

  What ended up being a huge misunderstanding of a clusterfuck began to come to an end as Liv and officer whistle-dick began walking toward where we were. As an officer was handcuffing the real thief, Liv walked our direction, now capable of speaking slowly and legibly.

  “Kleitz, Parker, listen up,” whistle-dick said as he walked closer to where we stood.

  “The big guy without a shirt. He’s the victim. The fella on the ground, he’s who we want. He was trying to jack the Chevy,” he said as Liv stood at his side pointing toward the thief.

  The officer helped the thief to his feet. He stood beside me, rubber legged and handcuffed, still somewhat uncertain of what had actually happened. As he moaned and wiggled his jaw, the officer began to explain his Miranda rights.

  “You have the right to remain silent. You have the right to an attorney. In the event…”

  “But big boy here assaulted the fella on the ground. Kicked him in the face as I was walking up,” The officer unsuccessfully in charge of handcuffing me announced as he pointed back and forth between ass hat and I.

  “Seriously?” I asked, one handcuff still dangling from my right wrist.

  “Quiet,” he demanded.

  “He was trying to jack my fucking car. He had a gun. I was unarmed,” I explained as I nodded my head toward the thief standing beside me in handcuffs.

  “I said quiet,” he repeated, “he was unconscious and unarmed when you kicked him. As a matter of law, that is assault. Right Stone?”

  “Well, I suppose it is, Parker. But we don’t necessarily need to write that in the report, now do we?” the officer standing with Liv responded.

  “Yeah Parker,” I sighed.

  “I said be quiet. I’ll cite you for resisting arrest,” Parker snapped.

  “I didn’t do anything. What the fuck. I hate fucking cops,” I growled.

  This was really starting to piss me off. I had to stand here beside the guy who tried to steal my car like I was a criminal. The emotion of this fucktard trying to steal my car, devising a way in my mind to overpower him, the arrival of the cops, and me smacking his stupid ass was a little more emotion than I had hoped for – especially as I was getting ready to pump Liv full of my cum.

  “Oh, you hate cops, huh? Well, we saved your ass,” Parker announced.

  “No, I knocked that piece of shit out before you arrived,” I bragged.

  “I said quiet,” Parker bellowed.

  “Stone?” Parker whined.

  The officer standing with Liv looked up from his note pad, blinked a few times, and walked closer to where we stood.

  “Do I know you?” he asked as he approached.

  I shook my head slowly, “I’m afraid not, officer.”

  “You sure?” he asked.

  “Quite. Never been arrested. Not that I shouldn’t have been, but it’s never happened,” I smiled.

  “I know you from somewhere,” he said as he studied my face.

  “Nope,” I shook my head.

  “Where you from?” he asked.

  “724 All Hallows, right around the corner,” I responded.

  “I know you from somewhere. Where do you work?” Stone asked.

  “Ain’t got a job,” I responded.

  “You drive a car like that, and you ain’t got a job,” he mimicked, “The car’s got to be worth forty grand.”

  “More like sixty,” I corrected him, “I box. I’m a boxer. I don’t look at it as a job.”

  “That’s it!” he shouted.

  “Television. The uhhm. Yeah. The fight with Dekkar and Mc Claskey. You were standing beside Dekkar for the interview with a little blonde-headed girl. Think it was Dekkar’s wife,” Stone said as he waved his finger at me.

  “Yup. Dekkar and I are best friends.” I nodded.

  “You and Shame on Dekkar? Best friends?” he asked.

  “Yep.” I nodded.

  “No shit. Hear that Parker? Kleitz? Shane Dekkar’s best friend right here. Probably hit this guy with a three piece before he knew it. Think you can get him to give me an autograph?” Stone asked.

  “I can have him come up here in ten minutes and sign the hood of your goddamned car if you’ll have Parker take this cuff of my wrist,” I laughed.

  “God damn it Parker. Get the cuffs off of him,” Stone demanded.

  “Probably good thing your girl here called 911. You’d have beaten that guy to death if we hadn’t showed up, huh?” he asked.

  And now it all began to make sense. Liv called the cops from the car while I was talking to shit-for-brains. Frantic, she probably explained the there was a guy with a gun, something about a tattooed bald guy, and a carjacking. In perfect cop fashion, the police came screaming onto the scene to the rescue. I hate cops.

  “That’d be my guess, yeah,” I agreed as Parker took off the cuffs.

  “So, I’m going to need to fill out a report and get statements. We’ll take him to the station. I can get most of the information here, but you’ll need to stop at the station and fill out a report of everything that happened here tonight. Hell, maybe even tomorrow would be fine,” Stone said flatly as he motioned toward the shit-head thief.

  “And if I get Dekk to sign the hood of your cruiser, you’ll forget the assault?” I chuckled.

  “Assault? What assault?” Stone said.

  “He hit me. And kicked my face,” the shit-head said.

  I turned and looked at Stone. Stone nodded his head sharply toward shit-head and smiled.

  Parker looked at me. I smiled. Kleitz looked at me and smiled. I smiled in return.

  Kleitz let go of the thief and stepped aside.

  The thief looked at me.

  I smiled.

  He didn’t.

  And I did what Mike Ripton does best. Well, short of fucking bitches.

  I knocked that motherfucker out.

  Cold.

  VEE. “Conley versus Gibson is clear in that respect, your honor,” I paused, waiting for a response that didn’t come.

  “You seem to have all the answers. You’re just like your father,” he sighed.

  “I don’t ever have all of the answers, your honor. I do, from time to time, have the right answers. Specifically, I’ll file a motion 12 (b) (6) in accordance with the Federal Rules of Criminal Procedure in anticipation of a dismissal,” I spoke in a clear and concise manner.

  I hesitated and waited for his verbal confirmation. A heavy sigh through the speaker of my desk phone signified his prolonged response was exactly what I had hoped for. I pressed my hands together and waited to hear him say it.

  “File the motion, counsel. You are correct. It appears the plaintiff did not state a claim for which relief can be granted. Is that all, Vivian?” his voice faded as I heard papers shuffling over the phone.

  “Yes, your honor,” I responded.

  “Advise your father I asked of his welfare, will you?” his voice became more distant.


  “Yes, your honor,” I responded as I clenched my hands into fists and shook them in the air.

  And, as the honorable Judge Black often did, he hung up the phone. No forewarning, no goodbye, just a disappearance. After a few long seconds, my phone went to the default beeping sound. I picked the receiver up and placed it back into the cradle, silencing the beep.

  “You know you can just push the button. The one on the bottom, below the extensions,” Tonia reminded me.

  “I realize that. Picking it up and placing it back into the receiver is more satisfying,” I smiled and stood from my chair.

  “Sooo,” she waited, leaning on the door jamb waiting for validation of what she already knew.

  “So. I need to file a twelve-b-six on the Wilson case. It appears counsel for the plaintiff had very little attention to detail,” I said as I walked her direction.

  “You want me to…” she began.

  “Tonia, I want you to do what I pay you to do. Pull a fucking motion. Fill the damned thing out. Include all of Wilson’s information, no differently than the last one hundred and who knows how many motions you have filed. Send it to me, upon completion, as an electronic file. Upon receipt, I will complete it, including all of the pertinent reference to law. Then we’ll file it with the court,” I responded in a definitive tone.

  “Yes ma’am,” Tonia responded, slowly shifting her gaze to the floor.

  “Tonia?” I said flatly.

  “Yes Mrs. Simon?” she said as she looked up.

  “Thank you,” I pressed my palms into my skirt and turned to face my desk.

  “Certainly,” she responded quietly as she shuffled toward her desk.

  I lowered myself into my chair, proud of my accomplishments of the day. On my way home, I would stop by the hospital and advise my father of Judge Black’s inquiry. For the next hour, I planned to relax at my desk and get caught up on what a federal attorney in Austin, Texas never gets caught up on.

  Relaxation.

  I exhaled and closed my eyes.

  I thought of my father, and his physical condition. His doctor expected him to live for a few more weeks. I had no expectation of him lasting that long. My mother left him years ago for choosing his work over his home life, leaving me to take care of him. When she left she never looked back. I can’t say, considering all things, that I blame her.

  I left my husband because he was a pussy when I married him, and he never developed into an actual man. He never took charge in our relationship. Law school, generally speaking, isn’t a good time to start dating, and we were no exception to this rule. I told myself after we started practicing law that he would change, but it never happened. What did happen was my finding of my true self. All day at work, I was in charge, making decisions that people’s lives depended on. When I got home, I wanted to throw my respective hands in the air, and have a man take control of me.

  He proved to be incapable of this, and never even made a half-hearted attempt to resolve my needs, wants, or sexual desires. As a result, I divorced him and have been single since. Slowly, it seemed, I was migrating into the person that my father was; a workaholic with no home life or a respective sexual or life partner. Desperately, I felt a need to change this about me, but had no time or actual reason to repair it.

  “Mrs. Simon, a Mr. Ripp on line four,” the sound of Tonia’s voice startled me.

  “Who?” I sighed as I opened my eyes and looked down at the phone.

  “A Mr. Ripp. He must know you. He asked for Vee, ma’am,” she replied.

  Oh. Ripp.

  “I’ll take it,” I responded, knowing he could be exactly what I needed to complete my otherwise oddly unfulfilling week.

  RIPP. Trying to make sense of senseless acts can consume considerable time and produce minimal results. Knowing this doesn’t necessarily prevent us from pondering the what-if’s and why’s after something happens we aren’t necessarily ready to digest.

  Trying to figure out Shane Dekkar’s mind was nothing short of impossible. The perfect citizen. The perfect boyfriend. The perfect potential husband. He was handsome, kind-hearted, yet tough when he needed to be. He was also able to discern when he needed to be tough and when he needed to be nice.

  I, on the other hand, was always a shade or variance of mean.

  “Well, what the fuck would you have done?” I was really having a difficult time with this pacifist bullshit.

  “I would have handed him the keys,” Shane said.

  “Oh hell no. I’m the way I am and ain’t nobody gonna change me or stop me,” I shook my head from side to side and tipped up my empty beer bottle.

  “I need another beer over here,” I screamed as I waved my hand in the air toward the waitress.

  “Well. It would have made it easy, and Liv wouldn’t be where she is now. Actually Ripp, we wouldn’t be having this conversation if you’d have handed him the keys,” Shane said softly as he tried to reason with me.

  “Well, you’re a weird fucker to try and figure out, mister nice guy. Beating the shit out of people who mistreat women. Knocking motherfucker’s out in the ring. And giving up your car to some meth junkie dope fiend,” I drew a deep breath and exhaled loudly as I crossed my arms in front of my chest.

  “He would have had to kill me to take the car, Dekk. You’ll never understand it. That car? To me? That car is family. It’s…well, it’s not just a car. It’s part of who I am. Might seem weird to you, but giving up that car? It’d be like him saying, Give me your leg, and I’ll let you go. My right leg or my car. They’re the same. He wasn’t gonna get either one,” I stared at Shane and shook my head.

  I nodded my head at the waitress as she placed the beer on the table. I guess the main thing which was upsetting to me was the fact Liv decided to leave me as a result of what happened. She felt I put her life in jeopardy. I really had a hard time with her feeling or thinking those thoughts. I told her to stay in the car, and I assured her, I got this. Men and women are certainly different and she was no exception. I would have never let any harm come to her, and although I knew that, apparently she didn’t.

  It’s always easy for an outsider to look at an event or an act and pick it apart. I would have handled it differently. I never would have done that. I can’t believe you did that. How in the fuck do you know what you would have done? You weren’t there. It didn’t happen to you.

  “Well, the car means a lot to you. That’s pretty obvious. To me, it’s replaceable. It’s a material object. Not worth losing a life over,” Shane said as he lifted his sandwich to his mouth.

  “Nobody lost their fuckin’ life, Dekk,” I shouted as I stood from my seat.

  This was starting to piss me off. Holier than thou bunch of motherfucker’s telling me I did wrong by smacking the guy. Telling me I should have let him take the Chevelle. Yeah, that would set real well with me. I hand the thief the keys, and he would take off in my car. I’d be left standing in the parking lot, carless, holding the hand of the girl that I was fucking behind the Japanese Grille. And. Everyone’s happy. We’d skip the four blocks home, hand-in-hand. Hell, maybe we could ride fucking Unicorns home. Bareback.

  Oh hell no.

  “You know what. I’m done talking about this. I don’t want to talk about Liv, that carjacking, or the fucking autograph seeking cops. Nothing. Don’t fucking bring it up again. Not one fucking bit of it. Nothing. And tell Shorty. Never bring up that bitches name in front of me. And don’t invite her over again. If she comes over, I’m fucking leaving,” I paced back and forth between the tables with my arms crossed.

  “Alright. Damn, Ripp. Not a word. Fine,” Shane agreed.

  “You know, all these women today want a bad boy. An alpha male. A biker. A tough fucker. And when they get one, a real one, they don’t know how to act. A guy stands up for what he believes in, stands up against someone that’s actually doing wrong, and all of a sudden, he’s the bad guy,” I stood, arms crossed and stared at Shane.

  “Nothing? You got nothi
ng?” I barked.

  “I’m done talking about it,” he said.

  “Fine. Me too,” I agreed.

  I stood and waited for him to speak. After a moment of silence, I sat down and picked up my beer. As I took a drink, I inhaled a breath through my nose. I continued drinking until the bottle was empty and slammed it down on the table.

  “Another beer over here,” I shouted across the patio as I looked for the waitress.

  “Damn, Ripp. You just need to…” he began.

  “Not. One. Fucking. Word,” I faced him and scrunched my brow.

  Slowly and silently he raised his right hand and formed his fingers to make the okay sign. Dekk was as good of a friend as one could ever hope to find. Sometimes, however, we become aggravated with even our best friends. I really had no reason to be mad at him. I was just mad and he was the recipient of my anger.

  “I need you to autograph something for me. You’re Shane Dekkar, aren’t you?” some muscle-head in a Wally’s Fitness shirt, sans sleeves, asked over Shane’s right shoulder.

  Slowly, Shane looked up and nodded his head, “Yes sir, I sure am.”

  “Hey dude. We’re trying to fuckin’ talk,” I said across the table.

  “I was talking to him. I wasn’t talking to you,” the muscle bound sleeveless shirt wearing punk hissed.

  “Well, all of that just changed, now didn’t it? Looks like we need to have a talk about being respectful,” I stood from my seat and wiped my hands on my shorts.

  “Ripp…” Shane started to stand from his chair.

  “Stay in your seat, Dekk,” I said, never breaking eye contact with Wally’s Fitness.