“And they say lost love leaves one empty inside. You have a chance to warm yourself up with that glass of faded memories my friend. Take hold of your life before it is watered down with too much emotion.”
“Shut the hell up with your drunk ass poetic bullshit,” Trent replied trying not to break down into tears of laughter. “You shoulda’ seen that dude, big as a grizzly bear, three times the size of one of us.”
“Aw, you could have taken him,” John said. “Bet I could have taken him down.”
“Yeah, well not all of us have spent all our free time in the damn gym trainin.’ I ain’t seen many people fight as well as you, but I dunno John, this dude was huge!”
“Alright, quit your damn whining. Here’s a ten. Get yourself a double, man.”
“Thanks, I can’t believe I left my extra ‘roll-o-dough’ at home. It’s still sittin’ on my damn nightstand.”
“Oh, really, guess I’ll go steal it on the way home,” John stated humorously.
Trent and John laughed as they turned their attention back to the game. As John’s team struggled to stay on top, he struggled to keep his mind from drifting to other thoughts. He had so much on his mind from work, and at home, he still had to make things right with Caroline. Thinking about it, he knew he was very rude to her this morning, and he was putting off getting home. He had just been so stressed out that his mind was not cooperating with keeping his mood swings down. He could feel the different moods coming on, feel them changing, rotating. His agitated calmness would turn to anger, to sadness and depression, or sometimes to a rush of thoughts, emotions, and actions, all at once it seemed. He could feel the turning wheel of all these moods, but felt he could not control them as well as he wanted to.
John thought about Dave, his adoptive father. Captain Dave Goldman had pretty much saved John’s life. He’d made life better for him and his brothers James and Jason, yet there was still so much pain and anger inside of John. The life of physical and emotional abuse growing up had come from within his home, from his parents who had serious drug and alcohol addictions. This abuse had predominately of course, come from his father. Those difficult early years of John’s life had molded him in many ways, and although Dave had come along in his early adolescence, the emotional damage from the many years before could never be simply erased. This damage seemed to have led to his current emotional issues of mood swings, and difficulty building trust in others. Sometimes this unfairly hurt those around him, especially those closest to him. This morning his lack of control over his anger had unfairly targeted Caroline, and he knew he had to make it up to her.
Disgusted by a last minute interception ending the sure win of his team, John headed to the men’s room to take out his anger on a vacant urinal. Damned quarter back. Who throws a pass like that unless its sabotage? That guy better keep a low profile tonight, giving away the game like that.
Turning past the last set of tables, John headed down the hallway to the bathroom. He noticed that there were more flyers lining the walls. They all seemed to blur together however in the dimmed lighting of the hall, the effect probably accented by the lite beer on his tongue. He’d have to remember to look at his flyers again later. Maybe he could offer to bring Caroline to see his favorite heavy metal band as a truce gift, hmm, might work.
As John entered the bathroom, there were only three other guys inside and they were all talking about the game. It seemed to be a two to one ratio in favor of the winning team. After pissing off the urinal, John approached the sinks, and somehow the men’s friendly discussion had turned into an angry argument, sadly lacking good sportsmanship. Two of the men began shouting after the lone fan had had enough bullshit come his way. The third man soon raised his voice and began threatening the sore loser, who happened to be a fan of John’s losing squad.
John however, liked to limit himself from bar room brawls, especially when he’d been drinking, um, too much. He decided that he should probably head back out the door and let any interested bouncers deal with it. He had to cross to the other side of the room to reach the exit, which seemed doable. He began slowly walking around the trio, which put him sliding behind his fellow fan. John tried to keep an eye on the men while looking towards the door as well, which seemed a little blurry at this point. While approaching the doorway, he was startled by a fourth man entering the restroom.
“What’s going on?” the man asked, as he entered to hear the commotion that had been difficult for anyone to hear outside of the immediate hallway area.
John looked directly toward the entering long haired man, who seemed like he was dressed for a business meeting or possibly had come from one earlier in the day’s hours. “I’m a…I’m really not sure.” As he turned to slide past the incoming man, he soon however discovered a different view of the men’s restroom as his legs were swept out from under him after receiving a strong leg sweep from behind. As John’s head hit the floor, he looked up to see that all three football fans seemed to have formed a new team of their own, and they evidently were no fan of his. He cringed as the team’s walk-on player, the long haired man who’d just entered, then kicked him in the ribs. The three gentlemen that were behind him then grabbed John and pulled him up as the mixture of alcohol and oncoming concussion left him at a disadvantage.
Just as John felt the punches landing upon his abdomen, he heard the apparent message.
“This is a warning Lieutenant; it’s not good to pry. And I suggest your friends hear a creative version of this event. Football fans can be quite violent you know, especially when you’re on the losing side, John. I hope that we don’t have to play this game again.”
John then found himself shoved hard to the floor, and he covered himself as he was surrounded from above. The cold, hard steel of the gun pointed at him deterred him from advancing as they exited. The fact that they had pulled his gun off of him left John even more helpless and out of options. All he could do was stay down close to the ground as he was told to do by the men and by his own pounding head and aching body.
John slipped out of consciousness as the last of the men disappeared out the door to anonymity.
John raised his head to find the eyes of a disappointed onlooker. Her soft eyes grimaced a wave of disapproval that John knew was actually concerned sincerity for his aching body, well at least he hoped it was. Her hand gently caressed his face as she ran her fingertips down his leg and let out a sigh of concern. Her lips gave gradual thought, and then reluctantly revealed her inner feelings on the current situation.
“Dammit John, you know Caroline is going to kill you baby,” Kellar warmly stated as she gave John her full attention while poking and prodding. “James told me about what happened, another fight, John?”
Following the advice of his attackers, John had made up a bullshit story of testosterone versus lack of touchdowns. He felt this would probably fly due to the fact that he somehow found himself in the middle of verbally challenged arguments a few times a year. In truth, this one had been the most unusual altercation chalked up on the current calendar year however.
While keeping all of this in mind, the continuous gaze of hazel eyes directed at him was starting to increasingly annoy John, due to the fact that he had to undergo judgment of said bullshit tale. He guessed he would have to hear Kellar bitch now, about how Caroline was going to bitch later, upon arrival to the hospital. Tag team mud wrestling would be one thing, but this was uncalled for. Dr. Kellar Raines was John’s current doctor, and his long time best friend. She was Henry’s daughter. Henry being Dave’s best friend, she and John had been around each other since John was adopted years ago. She truly had a heart of gold and was like the girl next door except all grown up as the beautiful woman next door; tall and thin with dirty blonde hair and soft, gravitating hazel eyes. Kellar was five years older than John, and she had taken him under her wing early on. She had always tried to get him in line or keep him there if she could. They had a strong bond, and although John would often go to her
for advice, trusted her immensely, and thought very highly of her; sometimes her “mothering” he found to be quite annoying.
“Look Kellar, I’ll be fine; I really don’t need to stay tonight.” John said as he gingerly sat up in his bed. “I just want to go home. You’re really making too much out of this.” He looked over and felt a slight bit of nervousness as he saw the door handle turn. Luckily, it was only his brother James reentering the room. “I’m really flattered at the offer Kellar, but we can have a sleep over some other time,” John joked.
“Nice try, but I’m afraid you are stuck here for the night,” Kellar countered with a smile. “Caroline is on the way, and I’m sure that she is bringing her sleeping bag. The two of you can camp out here at the hospital for the rest of the night and into the daylight hours. James’ other half, Alex of course, is watching Christopher. Alex said she would spend the night at your house, so that they wouldn’t have to wake Christopher up.”
“Yeah and you owe me on that big time big brother, I was enjoying my loud, um, I mean quiet evening at home,” James popped off looking first at John, then glancing over to Kellar with a cheap grin. “I sure hope you learned your lesson John; next time, cheer for the winning team, so you don’t get your ass kicked. You know a lot of wussies jump on the band wagon at the end of games or seasons and pretend like the winning team was always their team. That’s probably who beat you down, those dammed band wagon bitches. They’ll overrun you if you’re not careful.” James laughed richly at his own humor as he attempted humiliation in John’s direction.
Kellar just rolled her eyes and tried to ignore him. James could definitely be an ass.
“But whose team is going to the playoffs you prick, mine, not yours,” John threw back.
“You got me there,” James returned. “What about you, Kellar, and your team?”
“James, you know the only reason I started watching football was because John use to make me. Whose team am I always forced to cheer for?”
“Hmm, you should have had his back, Kellar. I elect you to enter the men’s room with John from now on, especially at the Café, and especially on game nights. If they can sneak their bitches in there, we can sneak in ours, hah!”
“Shut the hell up James,” John said as he threw his paper cup of water at James.
The door suddenly opened as James was about to react to John’s abuse. The room quickly thickened, and everyone stopped mentally to say a silent prayer for John, including John himself.
Now having the stage to themselves, Caroline took the lead by simply raising a finger to her lips as John began to open his mouthful of faux excuses for the night’s mysteries and true apologies for the morning’s mayhem. He noticed her beautiful, long hair had been tossed up in the back, and it reminded him of early mornings that had only just begun to leave the bedroom. He tried to read the expressions stretching across her face as she stood before him. The ocean of her eyes soon lost the momentum of his conscious thought as he rested his gaze in waters charted deep within his heart.
“I’m just glad that you’re all right,” Caroline spoke softly.
“I got a phone call,” were the first words James uttered as Caroline spoke.
John felt like he was trapped waiting on the Judge to announce sentencing. Her voice sounded strange, as if she was still undecided of her tactics, or maybe that was her tactic. He followed her movement toward him and lowered his gaze downward upon the bed as she sat in the dark brown chair beside him and gently raised her soft hand toward his fingertips. Feeling her touch instantly made him long to be with her, all be it far from the current setting. He chanced an upward glance and caught a painful peck to the lips as Caroline slowly directed her target via the slight motion of her fingertips.
Caroline smiled gently at her sneak attack as their eyes found commonplace, and John then softly pursued her lips as they called for his return. Caroline lowered the bed railing and moved in closer to John. She then guided his head to lie upon her chest and held him close to her.
“I’m just glad that you’re here,” John said as he enjoyed her caressing touch. It felt good to have her licking his wounds rather than biting his head off. As John waited still for a possible lecture that would never come on this night, he couldn’t help think in the back of his mind that he just might be on probation.
CHAPTER THREE
“Rough weekend John?” Came the voice of annoyance into John’s office first thing Monday morning. Captain Ryst was a complete ass to work under, and almost every time John heard his voice he regretted having to throw Captain Hudson that retirement party last year.
“Actually, it was rather pleasant,” John responded sarcastically while sporting his beat down scars. “Was there something that you needed?” Failing to get a rise out of him caused Ryst to up the ante. Ryst walked over to the filing cabinet John was fidgeting with and reiterated his interest in thorning John’s side.
“You know you’re already on a short leash after you decided recently to toss my personal memorandum out the window that explained nothing but complete and total compliance with Federal Discovery Command agents would be accepted in regards to federal case jurisdictional transfer. I issued this to you personally when the transfer became apparent. Assisting District 4 or not, you are under my control and supervision. You blatantly disobeyed me when you dared question that district’s FDC transfer of the serial murder cases. You know in a most serious case scenario you could have been jailed for that. Under policy, the FDC was not to be questioned in that matter under any circumstances! You disobeyed a direct order in regards to federal regulations. The punishments are becoming much stiffer for that now, Lieutenant.”
“You’re stuck up their ass so far that you can’t even see the bullshit their pumping out,” John so eloquently replied. “Common sense tells you that the local detectives that have been working the cases would be a strong asset in at least assisting the closing of those cases, especially considering the caliber of their importance. A few assholes carrying a particular badge shouldn’t just take the cliff notes and run with it. That was my opinion then, and it’s my opinion now.”
“You better watch your damn mouth boy! I don’t care who your daddy is; I’ll keep busting your ass over my knee as I see fit. Matter a fact, why don’t you and your smart ass mouth take a few days rest, and I’ll run your boys and bitches for ya’ my way. Just get your ass out of my domain.”
“Bullshit,” John came back. “I got too much to do. I’m not going home to sit on my ass when I need to do my job,” he was really getting pissed off now. So maybe he had questioned the District 4 takeover by the FDC, somebody needed to. He had realized later, after getting the informant’s info, that he was probably right about the FDC takeover being bullshit all along. He would never put his informant in danger, and he had to keep in mind that he had already publicly protested the local detectives of District 4 and himself being cut off from access to the cases they had been working. Therefore, John knew that he should still continue to display his true feelings on this matter publicly after he had met with his informant, so as not to call in to question his behavioral attitudes or lack of smart ass statements. In other words, he just needed to continue to be himself.
“You should have thought about my authority over you before you opened up that attitude problem of yours, get outta my sight,” Ryst spouted off interrupting John’s internal thoughts.
John took a step toward his aggressor and expressed his next words of anger with extreme caution, of course. “This is my office, my domain, and I’ll consider taking a long weekend, starting Friday.” With that clarification in motion, John headed out of “his” jurisdictional headquarters with files in hand.
As John approached his unit’s meeting room, he met Craig on the way. “Damn, where you been?” Craig asked. “We were here at 8:00 and it’s going on, um 8:30. You’re usually here at like 7:45. Is the uh, disability of your weekend hangover going to be a problem today?”
“
Well, I was trying to pull some files for our meeting, and I got jumped by Ryst. I’m pondering the thought that I might be served some paperwork sometime in the next, oh thirty minutes, so get everybody in here now please.”
“Will do boss.”
John never liked the feds, and he had painfully watched them eat away more and more at the rights of local departments everywhere. He figured that some of the FDC agents were probably standup guys and gals; however, he knew that some of them were just power mongers, and it was scary knowing that those idiots were taking charge of anything. He’d already had his fair share of run-ins with FDC agents before the District 4 murders ever happened. He did not take kindly to people undermining his authority, especially without explanation. He had had some of his own cases ripped out from under him, and John was well known for stepping in to protest when the route of his cases were challenged by “the big boys.”
This time around, he had been assisting District 4 with two apparently connected murders when a third suddenly popped up following the exact pattern. It wasn’t long after the third murder that the feds swooped in to overtake the cases. John was one of the few cops still willing to take on the power hungry federal machine. He had argued that the detectives should not be simply closed off the cases. He however was overruled fairly swiftly by the alphabet soup assholes that seemed to think they could do a better job. Apparently somewhere in the mix fell the bullshit memo he was um, accused of ignoring. Strangely, John had no recollection of said memo. What sucked was that Captain Ryst could probably recite it word for word in his sleep. Memo was indeed a four letter word. Well fuck the memo. Ryst was full of shit anyway, a by the book ass-kisser. John figured that that was why he didn’t get along with Ryst; John was actually a free minded thinker, and he wouldn’t turn out the light simply because someone told him to. Ryst seemed to be under the clouded spell that made him feel in charge, yet only made him one more comedic puppet on the FDC stage.
Daze of Reality Page 2
