“I can see that,” I told Colt.
“IMPD caught him last night. Fluke. Saw him loitering, older, white guy, rough, black neighborhood, he stood out. He was probably out hunting. They stopped for a chat, saw the gun on his belt, hauled him in. They found out he was from town and started questioning. He was uncooperative but he flipped for me.”
“You got him to confess?”
“Yeah, started as a rage. His brother lives in LA, his great-niece was picked up by a gang for an initiation and they did a number on her. So much anger, didn’t know what to do with it so he found a way to release it. But then he found he liked the way it felt, cleaning up the streets, so he kept doin’ it.”
Poor Cal. I’d heard about gang initiations. At his age, his great-niece must be in her early teens, if that. I was surprised I didn’t know about his niece though. News travelled fast, bad news faster. Cal had kept it to himself which wasn’t smart. Meant he needed to get it out someway and he picked the wrong way.
“Still,” Colt continued, “I think he was glad he was caught. He liked it and was starting to get off on it but he’s got enough good in him to know it was wrong and the dark path he was on was gettin’ darker. That’s probably why he dumped the bodies so they could be found.”
Catching Cal, Colt and the IMPD had saved the lives of some gang members which I supposed was a good thing. He also stopped bodies being dumped in the town limits which was definitely a good thing. He’d also stopped Cal turning his soul any blacker which was also a good thing. Colt had scored and it was huge.
Because of that I couldn’t stop myself from saying quietly, “Good job, babe.”
He was silent a moment then he asked, “You at J&J’s?”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t work tonight. We’ll get Reggie’s, take it home, drink beer and I’ll give you a chance to salvage your pool reputation.”
I knew he said this because he wanted to celebrate, what freaked me out was that he wanted to celebrate with me. Worse, that sounded like a kind of date except the “take it home” part which made it sound like something else entirely.
“Colt –”
“I’ll talk to Jack, he or Jackie can cover if you’re on.”
“Colt –”
“I’ll pick you up at six.”
Definitely a date-ish type statement.
“Listen to me, Colt –”
“Later, baby.”
Then he hung up.
I was finding it hard to breathe. This wasn’t because I was angry, this was because I wanted to eat pizza, drink beer and play pool in Colt’s den with Colt. I also wanted other things too, if I was honest. I wanted them so much it was too much.
That wasn’t what was making it hard to breathe.
What was making it hard to breathe was that I knew I could have them if I just reached out and took hold. And the excitement and anticipation of knowing that was unbelievably thrilling.
Letting go of the pain and deciding to live my life before it was too late meant something else was happening too. I was letting Colt back in, or he was pushing his way in, probably both. Golden Sundays and fucking fantastic kisses and a man going all out to protect you had a way of making that kind of shit happen. I didn’t know if I was ready to take Dee’s advice, forgive him, forget and move on. Even after all of these years, even learning moment to moment these last few days what kind of man he’d turned out to be, I had to admit, I was still shit scared.
*
By three thirty I knew the news had broken or some of it anyway.
I knew this because for a Monday afternoon we had way more people in the bar than usual.
I knew it too because Morrie finally told me after I cornered him because he and Dad were getting called aside to have private conversations with patrons.
Firstly, everyone knew Colt and I had had scenes in this bar and at the Station.
Secondly, everyone knew that one second, Colt and I were circling each other and barely speaking, the next second we were having scenes in this bar and at the Station and more, I was living with him.
Thirdly, not only had half my neighbors watched Colt and the boys going in and out of my apartment in the wee hours of the morning but also Chris and Marty had canvassed, knocking on my neighbors’ doors asking them if they saw anyone going into my house. They’d undoubtedly had their chats with Chris and Marty, gone back into their apartments and got right on the phone. Most of my neighbors were retired and this was gossip too juicy not to share.
Not to mention, Lore came in and did his thing, exposing me as someone who was assisting the investigation which didn’t help matters.
Lastly, my cell never quit ringing. I’d never been more popular. Some, my closer friends, I picked up and gave them a kind of “I’m busy”/“No Comment”/“I’ll call you later” malarkey. Others I didn’t pick up at all.
The good news was no one was shying away from me or sending daggers at me with their eyes. They were coming into the bar and having drinks not avoiding it. I felt mostly curiosity and some concern coming at me and I could handle that.
So the afternoon was crawling on and my drama was taking a new turn. I wondered if it lasted much longer if I’d eventually get used to it. I doubted it.
Morrie walked in with Palmer and Tuesday in tow. They raced to the office shouting, “Hey Granddad! Hey Auntie Feb,” and disappeared behind the office door.
I’d been in the office that day and the kids had done a number on it. Nothing on the desk was where it’d been before and the computer was totally fucked up and had about fifty more applications than it had when they walked in yesterday. Still, I liked them being in the bar which was where Morrie and I spent a lot of our childhood and seeing as loved ones were close, it was a good place to be.
Morrie had his cell to his ear as he made his way behind the bar. “Yeah, Dee, I picked ‘em up from school. Things are busy here. You mind comin’ ‘round after work to pick them up?”