She had just brought down a box when she spotted someone peering into the window of the bar. Walking closer, she recognized Alice from the Chamber of Commerce.
“Hello. Come in,” she said as she pushed the door open.
“Hi, Melanie. I’ve been meaning to call you since Ted’s funeral, but wasn’t sure where you were.”
Melanie motioned her to take a seat in a booth. “I’ve been here for about a month and just finished the remodel.”
Alice waved off the invitation to sit. “I remember talking to you about it that night at the mixer. I’ve been watching all the activity around here.”
Melanie flashed back to that night when she watched Ted drive off without her.
“So when are you going to open?”
“Well, that’s on hold.”
“Is there a problem?”
“No. Just a matter of me, getting my act together.”
“There’s a lot of buzz about this club in town, ya know.”
“Really? Good or bad?”
“Mostly good.”
“What about the bad?”
“Oh, there’s always the gossips who enjoy tearing people down. But the business owners are hoping this place will bring new customers to the area. That’s the bottom line for them, and me,” Alice said and started toward the door.
“Well, I—”
Alice turned back to her. “Listen, I can’t tell you how to deal with your personal life, but as one businesswoman to another, I’m telling you, you need to open these doors.”
Alice had hit a nerve with her. She made the reason for opening the club more about Melanie’s responsibility as a good neighbor than about a personal triumph. That afternoon, Melanie changed into her workout clothes and hit the beach. Running always helped her think.
When she returned home, she called Sandra to tell her she had decided to set a date for the grand opening. They agreed to brainstorm the plans the next day. Later on, she took a shower and dressed. There was somebody she needed to tell in person.
◆◆◆
She climbed the steps to the small Spanish bungalow and gave the door knocker a few taps. When no one answered, she shifted from one foot to the other. I guess I should’ve called, she thought, and took a step down off the stoop. The door flew open, and she turned around to face Charlie.
“Melanie,” he said with surprise.
She stepped back up. “Hey.”
“Come on in. Everything okay?”
She stepped inside. “Yeah.”
“Haven’t talked to you for a while. How are you doing?” He pointed to the couch for her to sit.
“I’m all right. Much better, actually.” She sat down.
“So, you here to talk about Scott’s transfer? I’m sure you—”
“It’s not about Scott. I’m his mother, and I don’t like him working the south end, but if he can stay safe, I think it might help him right now.”
He plopped down onto a chair. “Then what’s on your mind?”
“I’m announcing the grand opening of the club this week. It’ll be in about six weeks.”
“Scott told me you were dragging your feet about that. What changed your mind?”
“Something one of the local business owners said to me. Made me realize it’s the right thing to do.”
“Of course it is. It’s been your dream for a long time.”
“I know, but after so much had happened, I had second thoughts.”
He nodded.
“I had second thoughts about a lot of things.” she said. “Therapy does that to you.”
“I wouldn’t know. I’ve avoided it for a long time.”
“Well, let me tell you, it’s not for the faint of heart. It can be pretty brutal coming face to face with the things you’ve spent years denying. And there were a lot of things. But one in particular bothered me the most. It’s that regardless of how I treated you over the years, I can’t deny that I’ve always loved you and want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone.”
Charlie responded with silence, as if trying to let what she had said sink in.
She couldn’t read him. “Well, uh.” She started to rise, but Charlie sprang from his chair, put his arms around her, and caressed her face with his lips.
She welcomed his kisses as she had that night on the beach, but this time she allowed herself to experience the sensations that came with them. He lifted her top and nuzzled her chest, and she pulled him tighter to her. It had been a long time, and yet it seemed natural when he took her hand and led her into his bed, where he unfastened her bra.
As he waited for her to remove it, a chill came over her, and she hesitated; aware of how her body had not weathered the years as well as her emotions had. What if they couldn’t re-create their erotic fantasies of the past? She thought. What if—?
He must have realized her feelings. “We’ve waited this long,” he said. “We can take a little more time.” Then he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her down on the bed with him, where they spent the rest of the afternoon talking and fondling, before consummating their long deferred desires.
◆◆◆
Scott had been assigned to days at Southeast Division, seventeen miles northeast of San Pedro. About ten square miles located in south central Los Angeles, the area was known for its crime and notorious gang activity. Traffic on his first day was a bitch from San Pedro, but working in the daylight would help him get accustomed to the area. Besides, days were generally not as busy as nights.
Having taken Charlie’s advice, Scott had had a round of sessions with the department psychologist before arriving at his new assignment. One of the subjects that had come up, addressed the reason Scott had become a cop in the first place. Had he been coerced to join the force?
Growing up a cop’s son meant that higher standards would be imposed on him by his parent. After all, a child of an officer should never exhibit signs of the sleazy element he/she faced in the street every day. The offshoot of this often resulted in a rebellious child determined to defy the pressure placed on him to be perfect, often creating the opposite effect; the drug addict, school drop-out, or criminal. In Scott’s case, he strived to make his father proud of him by emulating him. Which meant joining the force.
The counselor had recommended that he consider his life as a civilian. What did he envision himself doing other than police work? He took a sober look at what his life would be without the job he had come to love. His decision had led him to Southeast station that day.
He arrived early, despite the traffic, and pulled into the parking lot. He noticed a few other people, but made no eye contact with them. He slung his gun belt over his shoulder, retrieved his uniform and duffle bag from the backseat and walked around to the front of the station. The civilian desk officer showed him into an office, and introduced him to Capt. Morales, sitting at his desk.
“Have a seat.” Morales pointed to a chair.
Scott complied, and did his best to act nonchalant, as the muscles on his arms twitched under his lightweight jacket. He told himself that he shouldn’t be nervous. After all, he’d just left a special assignment with South Bureau Homicide and had worked patrol for more than two years. But it wasn’t lack of experience that concerned him.
The captain wasted no time before addressing Scott’s fears. “I was sorry to hear about the circumstances of your father’s death. Ted and I came on the job about the same time. He was a good cop back then; a good partner.”
Scott could see the disappointment on the man’s face.
Morales took a deep breath and walked to the front of his desk. “I realize you have taken the brunt of this situation, and I admire your determination to continue with the department, despite recent problems at your last assignment. But if you’re serious about working here, you’re going to have to find a way to get beyond your unfortunate family issues, and re-commit yourself to the job. Your fellow officers’ and the community’s lives depend on it. ”
◆◆◆
Scott left the captain’s office relieved. Though he knew he had more work ahead of him to get where he could reconcile his feelings about his parents’ actions, he felt up to the challenge that the captain had just given him. As Scott entered the locker room he interrupted the conversation of three other officers. He nodded to them and they returned the gesture but continued their business in silence.
He located his assigned number, hung his gun belt inside the locker door, and tucked his duffle bag on the shelf. After ripping open the plastic cleaning bag over his blue uniform, he undressed. The quiet in the room spoke volumes, so Scott hurriedly strapped on his bullet-proof vest before donning the rest of his uniform.
At roll call, the sergeant introduced him to mixed responses. Scott chose to focus on the openly positive ones and was grateful to be partnered with Ken Kawaguchi, a veteran of the division. Ken offered to drive, and when they hit the streets, he filled Scott in on their area of assignment. Scott had been away from patrol for a while but had no problem remembering the routine. He also discovered that he had missed the self-confidence and sense of importance that wearing the uniform gave him.
Ken cruised around the streets, pointing out some of the troublesome areas. Afterward, they bought an indecent exposure call of a man wagging his penis at some children in the park, and then went on to file a report of a liquor store theft. The relatively simple reports gave Scott time to get familiar with the area and learn about the ever-present gang problems in the hood.
It was getting close to lunch time, so Scott picked up the microphone and requested code 7 from the RTO.
“18A35 continue patrol,” she responded. “415 man with a gun, 146 E. 111th St., shots fired. Code3.”
Scott acknowledged the call, and Ken hit the red lights and siren and floored the gas pedal. They pulled up in front of a wood-framed bungalow, eased out of the car with guns drawn, and called out to the suspect inside the house. The man responded with a barrage of gunfire.
“Shit!” Ken said as they took cover behind the car doors.
Scott’s voice shook when he spoke into the microphone attached to his shirt. “18A35. Officer needs help. Shots fired at police. We have a barricaded suspect. Requesting additional units, a supervisor and an air unit.”
Still crouching, he thought about his next move, while wondering what had driven the man to this point. Was he guilty of another crime and determined not to go to jail, or was he a despondent man on drugs, hoping to commit suicide by cop? Either way, Scott knew the odds of this confrontation ending well were slim to none.
Before the RTO finished announcing that the officers needed help, two additional police units pulled up along with Air Support Unit3, having heard the original hot shot call earlier. Ken directed them to position themselves at the rear and sides of the house, and Air3, circling above the neighborhood, confirmed that they had seen no one exit the back.
Within minutes, Sgt. Hillary Sanders arrived, followed by four more black and whites. Scott apprised the sergeant of the situation, and she requested a SWAT team. She used the extra officers to help her set up a command post a few houses away, manage the news media and other bystanders, and close the street at both ends.
In the meantime, Scott took it upon himself to canvass the neighbors for information about the suspect. Two neighbors were not home, and another claimed to know nothing about the shooter. He finally found an older woman willing to help.
“That man’s a funny one. Doesn’t have much to say and when he does, it never makes sense. He lives with his sister. She’s a nice lady. Quiet. Belongs to my church.”
“Uh, you don’t happen to have her phone number, do you?”
“Wait here. I’ll check my church roster.”
Scott nodded. If he could get the number, they might be able to call the house, talk to the guy and find out if anyone else was in there.
“Here you go.” She handed him a slip of paper with the number.
“Thank you, ma’am.”
He took the information back to Sgt. Sanders.
“Good job Swain.” she said, looking him directly in the eye.
Scott went back to his car and resumed his position with Ken. Until then, he had been operating on adrenaline, and although the incident was far from over, her simple expression of approval plus knowing that SWAT had arrived, lessened the tension.
Meanwhile, Sgt. Sanders called the phone number that Scott had obtained. When there was no answer, she flipped on a car speaker. “This is Sgt. Sanders of the LAPD. Speaking to all persons at 146 E. 111th St. I’m ordering you to immediately come out the front door with your hands raised.” After repeating the command three times, to no avail, she informed her officers to remain at their posts, and wait for SWAT to suit up and deploy in the area.
Once SWAT officers surveyed the residence and positioned themselves around the perimeter and on the roof across the street, they launched a canister of tear gas into the house. The fumes from the gas permeated the street and scorched Scott’s face, forcing him to close his tearing eyes. When he opened them again, Ken’s face was a blur. The white substance hung in the air as they waited for someone to run out of the house. No one did.
SWAT officers then rammed the door to enter the house with guns prepared to blaze. A few minutes later, the SWAT supervisor stepped out of the house and announced that the scene was clear.
Scott and Ken had to see for themselves. They entered the living room to find an overweight man in his thirties sprawled on the couch, gun next to him, with blood and matter oozing from his head.
“Sorry son of a bitch,” Ken said.
After making their way into the kitchen, they spotted a lifeless middle-aged woman with a gunshot wound in her chest, slumped in a chair at the table. Scott winced, as he stood over her body, remembering her neighbor’s description of the “nice lady.”
Ken glanced over at Scott. “Well, partner, welcome to life in Watts.”
CHAPTER 16
Melanie straightened her long black gown and put the finishing touches on her hair and make-up as she readied for the long-awaited grand opening of McNeil’s. She’d been going since early morning, taking care of last minute preparations in the kitchen and the bar. She grabbed the can of hairspray, and heard a tap on the door. She turned to see Charlie, looking quite dapper in the tux he had rented for her special occasion.
“Hey, Mel. Wow, you look beautiful.” He leaned in to brush her cheek with his lips.
She pretended to straighten his bow tie. “You’re pretty handsome yourself.” Handing him her diamond necklace, she turned and waited for him to fasten it around her neck.
“You ready for this?”
She drew a long breath. “As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.”
“You’re going to be great.”
The evening was by invitation only for chamber members, and friends and family, with limited reservations for the public. Cocktails and appetizers began at six with dinner planned for eight. Even though she had hired the best up-and-coming chef in the area, along with experienced bartenders and servers, she still worried about her new staff’s maiden dinner.
On top of that, it would also be her first appearance as a singer in a very long time. So much was riding on this evening. It had to be great. But that wasn’t her only concern. She hadn’t received an RSVP from Scott, and if he didn’t show, no matter how successful the party was, she would be crushed.
◆◆◆
A few minutes past seven, Scott arrived with a stunning statuesque young woman on his arm. He quickly spotted Charlie and meandered over to him.
“Hey, Charlie.” Scott said.
Charlie straightened his stance, and tipped his drink at Scott. “Good to see you. Your mother will be pleased. Kind of kept her guessing, though.”
“Yeah. I didn’t mean to. I just needed some time.”
Charlie nodded. “So introduce us.”
“Oh, Shelley. This is Charlie Moore my former partner
at South Bureau. And a good friend of my Mom.”
“Nice to meet you.” The shapely blonde held out her hand.
“Pleasure’s mine.”
Scott scanned the crowded room. “Mom around?”
“Think she’s in the kitchen. Hey, I read about that shooting caper of yours at Southeast. Good job.”
“Thanks, it was hairy.”
“Thought it stunk that they led the story with Ted’s shooting, though. Goddamn media.”
Scott had been trying to forget that story in the news. It probably wouldn’t have made it on TV if it hadn’t given them another chance to use his father’s name. Anything for a headline. He needed to change the subject. “Uh, they keeping you busy at the Bureau?”
“Sure. For the time being. Maybe you didn’t hear. I’m pulling the pin next month.”
Scott smiled. “So you’re finally packing it in for a life of leisure?”
“Matter of fact, no. I took a job as a DA investigator with the county. I start in a couple of months.”
“You’re kidding. Why the switch?”
Turns out my finances weren’t good enough for me to live on retirement alone. But I needed a change. Thirty years with the PD was enough.
“Well, the DA’s the winner as far as I’m concerned.” Scott turned to Shelley. “Come on, let’s go find Mom.”
◆◆◆
The evening didn’t go without its hiccups, but the overall reception by the guests was encouraging. They loved everything from the art deco black and yellow décor to the cuisine. Everyone appreciated that she had restored Benny’s bar counter, complete with some of the etched names, and added a tastefully done collage of Benny’s personal mementoes, pictures, and awards. Melanie became wrapped in his spirit as she pictured her father standing proudly behind the bar winking at her.
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