“You went into law enforcement because you knew the American dream couldn’t continue without men and women like you. You saw people getting older, like your parents, and wanted them to live a safe, happy life. You wanted your children growing up in an environment where they could play outside and go to school and make something of themselves.” Pop pointed to the officer’s name badge. “Sergeant Rico J. Cruz. You didn’t become a Sergeant by eating doughnuts and directing traffic. You’ve worked your way up from the bottom and hung in there. Showed yourself to be the cream of the crop. The drive inside that led to your promotion to Sergeant is still there. Sure, the job’s tough, but I’ve been in this business long enough to know that finding refuge in the bottom of a glass isn’t all related to work.”
Pop leaned toward Rico. His gaze cut like a priest waiting for a confession.
Rico grimaced again as he squeezed the shot glass. His face reddened under the dim, yellow lights above the bar. He had promised himself he wouldn’t cry over the matter. For God’s sake, he was a grown man after all. Tears would be a sure sign of defeat—ultimate humiliation. A deep breath strengthened his resolve.
“The drinking didn’t start until . . . until Mary Etta started losing interest in me. We were married pretty young. Not more than kids, really. We were so in love though.” His expression softened as he placed the shot glass on the counter. “Things were great at first. We lived in an apartment for the first two years. Those were the best of times. We bought a house, and she went to work. It all kind of started then. She was working with a lot of women her age that weren’t married. Sometimes she would go out with them to bars and clubs. You know, when I worked night shift. I guess I stopped paying her the special attention women need.” Rico lifted his head and with glistening eyes gazed at Pop. “At some point, she got that special attention from other men.” His voice broke, and he clenched his teeth to keep his angst from spilling out.
Pop reached over and placed his hand on Rico’s shoulder. “That’s a shame. I wish I could say things like that don’t happen very often but that wouldn’t be true. I hear a story like that so much in this line of work that I think it’s become the norm. Sometimes I think marriage licenses should only be good for three years. It’s just the way society has gone. You’re about to enter a new phase in life, buddy. Don’t worry, there are plenty of hot women in the world that’s in the same situation as you. It’ll take a little time. You’ll get over it.” Pop raised his eyebrows. “But you gotta take control of this thing. You’re better than that. Accept it for what it is and move on. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you.”
Despite the fact Rico looked like his mind was a thousand miles away, he had heard every word. Pop was a kind man, even though he was also the kind you didn’t want to cross. Right now, Pop felt like his best friend. Hell, maybe even more like his own father used to be back when he was a kid. Before his sister Jennifer died.
Rico sighed, and then said, “I’ve been trying to convince myself to move on for some time. I didn’t know how to do that. I still don’t. But, I hear you, Pop. I hear you, and I know what you mean. Thanks for giving me hope.”
“You see, you’ve got to get out of the trap in your mind and get back into the swing of things. Not that I don’t appreciate the business… I really do. But push the bottle away. Get some rest. Buy some new clothes and maybe change your hairstyle. You might look good with one of them Mohawk cuts. Seems all the rage these days. Well, at least that’s what my grandson says.”
“I’d probably look like an iguana.”
“Some women love iguanas,” Pop chuckled.
Rico let out a rip of laughter that had half the bar turning his way. When he managed to regain control, he said, “Pop, you slay me. You’re the best.”
“I’m just glad to see you smile. How about I call you a cab?”
“Nah, I can call one of my men on patrol and get them to pick me up and take me home. Don’t worry. You aren’t going to read about me in the morning paper.”
“Good deal. Go home and get some rest.” Pop patted Rico on the shoulder just before turning to attend to the needs of another customer at the bar.
Pop’s right. Mary Etta shouldn’t ruin my life. She don’t want me? Fuck it. I can’t let her do this to me. I can’t let her ruin my job. I’ve worked too hard to blow it all on that bitch. Rico surprised himself. He had taken the blame for everything until now. She is a bitch. A lying, cheating, good for nothing cu— He stopped himself as he had vowed never to disrespect any woman to that level. From now on, things were going to change. They had to.
Rico’s stomach reminded him he hadn’t eaten since noon. He looked at his watch and thought how a pizza sure would be good right now. It would be hard to get a pizza and not have beer with it. He didn’t need any more alcohol and decided he’d hit the next fast food joint on the way out.
Pop was at the other end of the bar when Rico waved goodbye. Pop waved back, showing his new set of dentures. Before Rico could rise, someone shouted.
“Look by the window. What’s that?”
A thump against the storefront window followed. Someone looking more dead than alive mashed their face against the glass, startling some of the patrons. From the looks of the guy, it was probably safe to assume he was a member of the growing homeless crowd. He looked to be as rough as rough could get.
Pop’s lounge played a mixture of soft jazz and blues in the background. It was one of the quieter bars in the area where people could meet and actually hold a conversation. Most everyone in the bar had their attention on the homeless man at the front window. He kept pounding on the window as if he wanted in, but was too drunk to figure out he wasn’t actually in front of the door. Not counting Pop and Rico, there were close to thirty people in all watching the strange scene. A few sat at the bar by Rico while others sat scattered about in chairs and at tables drinking and carrying on in conversation. This was, of course, before the show they watched now. Other homeless people must have been drawn to the commotion, because a few more came out of the shadows to join in the banging session outside.
A bloated hand slapped the glass and left a trail of wet ooze.
A woman shrieked. “Eww… Gross, what is that?”
Louis Armstrong’s classic voice sang over the sound system:
‘I see trees of green, red roses too’
‘I see them bloom for me and you’
‘And I think to myself, what a wonderful world.’
“What the hell? I just cleaned those windows.” Pop reached under the bar and pulled out a shiny, maple baseball bat. “Those bums are bad for business!”
Rico held up his hand. “Let me get this, Pop. It’s probably just some high school kids pulling a prank.” Pop’s talk and the alcohol worked together to stoke Rico’s fire. He was an officer of the law, and he was about to prove to himself and others that the real Rico Cruz was back in control of his life.
The barstool squealed across the concrete floor when he stood. Whoever this was had picked the wrong place and wrong time to try the patience of a lawman not in the mood to put up with any shit.
“There are more out in the street. Something’s wrong with them. They seem lost,” a thin girl in a red pencil skirt said, looking out another window. She flipped her long blonde hair to the side and brought her martini to her lips while keeping her gaze toward the street.
Rico headed for the door and watched his own reflection pass over the pawing vagrant on the other side. The shirttail of his uniform hung over his pants, and his tie was crooked. He looked a mess.
What a slob. I’m going to change a lot of things in my life—starting tomorrow.