Nomad: A Story from The Reels

by Brian Ewing

  One thorn that popped up in his side from time to time was Max Halstead, a reporter with The Saratoga Sentinel. He was responsible for doing a piece on him over a year ago, which is what started the domino effect resulting in a tornado of bodies, courtesy of Laura Saunders, and Carson Vinnova. He reached out a dozen times since Sisto’s return from Mustain, along with showing up at a food truck event he tracked him down at, weeks after Sisto had successfully avoided him. He asked Sisto for a quote, which Sisto replied throughout the conversation, the same phrase over and over: no comment. That didn’t stop Max from writing a smear piece on him, to boost his numbers. Sisto glanced at it but didn’t read the whole thing. The title of the article had been named Officer Psychic or Renegade Outlaw?.

  Sisto wasn’t allowed to be involved in the next case that Project: Corrine caught, but did get an invite about once a week to join everyone at Flashy Jack’s for beers. Mitchell said that it sounded like he would be cleared of any wrongdoing within the next few weeks, now that Norton resumed his duties. Toby also submitted a thorough forensic analysis of the crime scene and vouched on his reputation that Sisto made the right call. The report touched Sisto as he read through it. Toby LeNard hovered over Sisto as he read the presented material, and once done Sisto looked up to see Toby waiting to be praised. Sisto sincerely thanked him for the kind words and immaculate work.

  Sisto held up his end of the bargain and showed up to the grand re-opening of Corden Palisades. He took some pictures with Fred and Teri Corden and clapped as Fred gave a speech. As Fred spoke, Super Dave pulled Sisto aside and told him that he overheard Fred Corden on the phone with his lawyer. Dave told Sisto he felt the conversation was indicating that the Corden’s were fixing up the place in hope of selling it to a new person. Sisto had to sit and listen to Dave whine about how he will quit if the new owner gives him any shit and hopes he doesn’t get run around like a modern-day slave. He gave a handful of examples of things the Corden’s had made him do over the last few months, and Sisto had to admit that Dave’s suspicions sounded valid.

  Sisto and Ama went on their first official date the Friday after getting back from Mustain. The swelling in Sisto’s face went down from when Rug connected his meaty hands with Sisto’s nose. Sisto kept his word, taking Ama to The Sear, the most popular and expensive steakhouse in Saratoga City. He rang the doorbell that Friday evening, to be greeted by none other than Ojibwe. He had not seen much of Ama’s grandmother the last month and while admittedly scaring him upon their first interactions, he had grown to have a soft spot for her in his heart. He stepped into the two-bedroom apartment looking very uncomfortable.

  He was not used to wearing much more than a t-shirt and jeans. That night, he wore a suit that made him look like a rich broker, instead of an underpaid policeman. He was pacing around the living room in Apartment 37, holding a bouquet of tulips. He was going to get roses but distinctively remembered Ama saying once how much beauty was held in a single white tulip. Ojibwe asked if she could get him a glass of water or anything while he waited. While his nerves were starting to leave his mouth dry, he declined the offer. Just then, he heard the bedroom door around the back of the apartment shut, and out came Ama.

  She looked amazing. She still had her darker eye shadow which accentuated the gleaming from her eyebrow and labret piercings. Her dark hair was down but had a bounce and shimmer to it. Her eyes held a dark seduction in them. They popped as he looked her up and down. He must have had an awestruck look on him as his eyes made their way down to check her out because her glossy lips curled into a beautiful smile. The dark green dress which was not afraid to show off the supple curves of her breasts directed his sight all the way down. The fabric looked like it was tailored to fit her golden-brown skin to perfection. The slit running up her right thigh did him in. He had no words to describe how amazing she looked.

  “Are those for me?” She asked.

  ‘Uh, um…you look incredible.” He finally spat out.

  She swiped her hair behind her ear, revealing one of his favorite features about her. It was a small, triangular tattoo dedicated to the company responsible for sending back a murdering machine in the 1984 James Cameron classic, The Terminator, along with its subsequent sequels. It reminded Sisto that Ama was more connected to him on a level of dorkiness than most. He loved music and movies, and while her taste was significantly better in movies, she still had an affinity for 80’s sci-fi.

  “Shall we?” Sisto asked.

  Ama nodded and they went off to have the most amazing night he had experienced in a very long time. The food had been superb, from the seared butter-herb filet mignon to the green chile and cilantro cream cheese potato, to the overpriced wine. The night was perfect. What made the night even more special was that it was no more than ten minutes before both he and Ama fell into comfortable conversation. No first date jitters to ruin the mood. The months and months of friendship deepened the conversation throughout the night. The questions that they asked each other were from genuine intrigue.

  Ama asked Sisto things about his childhood, he asked her about her favorite summer growing up. They already knew most of the surface features from one another and even a good amount deeper than most get access to even after years of friendship. They continued the effortless conversation throughout dinner, followed by a walk in the park. They went to Saratoga Central Park to walk the man-made lake. Sisto didn’t want the night to end because he believed that even if nothing came further between them, it may be one of the best first dates he would ever experience in his life.

  They did have more dates, however. They had a proper date at least once a week and usually hung out after work to watch movies at least another two nights a week. It was about two weeks and six interactions into Sisto’s suspension when the night came where they couldn’t hold back any more reservations. She came up to his apartment around nine and had a look in her eye like she was basically telling Sisto to make a move. They sat and watched a classic in Sisto’s mind, 1982 John Carpenter’s The Thing. It was one of their favorites as Sisto grew up renting it a dozen times a year from the video store with his late brother, Eddie. Ama also had a crush on some kid back in the fifth grade at Space Camp, who had snuck a copy into the cabin and played it one night for everyone. She said it reminded her how pure childhood was, even though it was one of the most terrifying movies in science fiction history.

  It was less than twenty minutes in when Sisto leaned in to whisper something to Ama. He didn’t have anything to say but thought he would figure something out once his lips grazed her ear. Luckily for him, she was waiting for any inclination that he was going to balls up. As he moved forward, she pressed her cheek against his and breathed slightly heavier as they lost interest in the movie. Their lips met and Sisto could only rationalize the feeling of her lips similar to making his entire face melt. It was a kiss that stuck long after she pulled away. She only pulled away to stand him up and guide him into his bedroom, which he was not opposed to at all.

  The hours felt like minutes and the connection was unlike anything he experienced before. The sex was more than lust, more than physical need. It was an emotional connection that blew his mind. He felt like he was a teenager again, exploring every curve and inch of her body for the first time, her reciprocating, causing him to shiver. They connected and stayed that way in perfect rhythm, kissing and getting lost in each other’s eyes until they climaxed within a minute of one another. They fell asleep in each other’s arms and the last thought that crossed Sisto’s mind before slipping away in the dream world was praying to whatever Deity or Shaman or Godly creature was out in the world, to spare him and let him keep the happiness he felt in that moment, forever.

  The weeks following that went by and the two were inseparable. During the days where Ama worked her day job, she would text him and he would reply immediately back. Sisto spent most of the weekday mornings finishing his assessment of micro expressions with Tim Roth. Once he finished the third and final season o
f Lie to Me, he chose another homework assignment. He chose to start the early 2000’s Fox television hit 24, starring Kiefer Sutherland. In between seasons he also picked up the premium network comedy, Curb Your Enthusiasm with the hilarious Larry David. 24 taught Sisto how to manage under pressure, realize everyone could be a double agent, and if he ever had a child to never let her run around the woods with a cougar, or join CTU. Curb Your Enthusiasm didn’t teach him anything. It wasn’t meant to do anything other than make him laugh, which delivered on every episode with its insanely dry humor.

  Ama called him around lunchtime, which was great because he just finished the first episode of season three of the Fox drama and he needed to take a step back and process all the new elements.

  “Hey there,” Sisto said.

  “Hey, how’s it going?”

  “Good. Just doing some homework. How’s your day going?”

  “Boring but letting me get away from you for a few hours, so it’s serving its purpose.”

  Sisto could hear the joking tone in her words and could practically see her smile through the phone. “Ha, ha, very funny.”

  “I’m just kidding. Hey, I meant to tell you, on my way to work this morning, I overheard Super Dave in the lobby. Apparently, the Corden’s spruced up the building so they could sell it. The new owner takes over next week. I wonder what they have planned with it.”

  “I remember Dave saying he thought that was going to happen a few weeks back at the grand re-opening. Damn.”

  “You don’t sound too concerned. This is the exact thing that your nightmares are made of Sisto. You hate change and now the place you live is being taken over by a stranger.”

  “I don’t know, Ama. Maybe change is what keeps life interesting? All I can tell you is the last few weeks have been the happiest I have been in a long time.”

  The phone remained silent for a few seconds. “You are turning over a new leaf, Tom Sisto.”

  “Staying over again tonight?” He asked, trying to sound inviting but not presumptuous.

  “It’s Thursday, we are going to Flashy Jack’s to see everyone. But, yes, I will probably get you drunk and take advantage of you later.”

  Sisto could again hear the smile in her joking tone. “God bless you.”

  “Talk to you later.” She laughed.

  “Bye.”

  The next few hours were filled with more television, a trip down to Martino’s to get some groceries for the house, and a nap. He woke up and looked at his phone. No missed calls or texts, so that was good. It was just after six and the sunset was almost complete, leaving the dark Saratoga City night. He decided he should shower and be ready for whenever Ama showed up. He knew she got done with work around five and after the commute, had probably made it back to Corden Palisades twenty or thirty minutes ago. He turned the television over to one of his Spotify playlists and got off the couch to take a shower.

  He left the bathroom door open so he could hear the music without blasting his neighbors above and below him. A beautifully composed playlist he handpicked and would have driven Ama nuts started throughout the apartment. It started with the classic vocal melody of Sebastian Bach as Skid Row presented him with one of the greatest 80’s hairband tunes, I’ll Remember You. It jumped around to Disturbed to The Outfield to Westside Connection to Breaking Benjamin. Sisto laughed while he got shampoo in his eyes, thinking about how he could now understand how one could find his playlist very off the wall.

  Just then he thought he heard his apartment door open. His memory jogged to remember if he had locked it after getting back from Martino’s or not. He heard the clunk of the door closing, confirming someone was no doubt in his apartment. He scrambled to wash out the shampoo as his boy Smokey Robinson came on in the rotation with I Second that Emotion. Sisto got as much soap as he could out and grabbed a towel, leaving the shower on to not let the intruder know they were known to him. He stepped to the side of the bathroom and had no weapon to protect himself. His service weapon was in some Ziplock bag on the third floor of the SCPD building. His Louisville slugger was tucked in between his bed and nightstand.

  He took off the porcelain lid to the toilet and gripped it best he could with his prune-like, wet hands.

  “Sisto, the door was open.”

  His heart slowed down, and the taste of steamed vegetables made him gag a moment before he got it under control. Toilet lid in hand, he walked out of the bathroom soaking wet, with a towel around his waist.

  “You scared the shit out of me. I thought someone was breaking in to murder me.”

  “Well,” Ama said. “You have racked up enough enemies over the last few years.”

  Something on her face told him that something was on her mind.

  “What?” He asked.

  “Is there anything you want to tell me?” Ama, asking a question with a question.

  Shit, she knows.

  “I don’t think so. Do you think there should be something I want to tell you?”

  Cute was not working for him. She had a glare, not an angry glare, but a glare like she won’t let the wool get pulled over her eyes, ever.

  “So, my last meeting was canceled, and I was sitting in my office so I decided to pull out my personal laptop.”

  “I thought you had a desktop.”

  “I have both, shut up.”

  Yep, definitely knows.

  “So, I started digging into the new owner that is taking over the building at the beginning of next week and I found something interesting.”

  “Really? What?”

  “Well,” She started. “The purchase was made under a shell company. You know what a shell company is, right?”

  Sisto just nodded, not looking her in the eye.

  “Could you imagine my surprise as I saw the entity named on the paperwork?”

  Sisto shook his head in the negative, again not sure he should say anything to incriminate himself.

  “Would you like to know the name of the entity? Because there would be absolutely no reason that you would know the name, right Sisto?”

  She waited a moment, but no acknowledgment came out of the wet, naked man at that time. She broke her serious tone and released a smirk as she told him.

  “Low and behold, the person or company that bought the Corden Palisades was a corporation registered just three months ago. And you know what their name is…Leviathan Deepstar, Inc.”

  It was either that or Weller Rising, LLC. Leviathan Deepstar has a nicer ring to it though, Sisto thought.