Before it has a chance to fight for its life, the grasshopper is pulled into the waiting fangs beneath the ground, down into the dark, webbed nest below.
“That’s my Mexican girl. Eat up, Blondie.”
Sheriff Green replaces the terrarium's lid and clicks the plastic locks into place. He sits behind his desk, annoyed to hear not just the shift of the chair’s leather but the click in his left knee that comes with every bend these days. Aside from his weathered skin, wrinkled brown from the sun as well as the native blood in his veins, it's the most obvious reminder of his years.
Which is why he doesn't bend down in front of his men.
There's a knock on the door. He tells whoever it is to come in.
“Do you have a minute,” Butcher asks.
“I have three.” The Sheriff motions to the chair facing him, but Butcher prefers to stand.
“I won't be long. I wanted to talk about Banks.”
The Sheriff sighs. “Why I thought he'd keep his big mouth shut I'll never know.”
“That's just the problem- in my old station I didn't have the best track record with loudmouths. I came here to make a fresh start, not to get slapped around by the babysitter.”
“If Banks slaps you, you have my permission to slap him back.”
“Thanks, but that's not what-”
“I don't come to decisions lightly,” the Sheriff cuts him off, “and I don't give bullshit assignments. So is he watching you? Yes. You're an unproven officer in my book, regardless of what your file says, and I like to keep tabs on what I'm not sure about.”
“I can appreciate that.”
“Good, because I take my job very seriously. I hope by now you can see we're not some backwater town. Shallow Creek has won awards for our compost recycling program, and we happen to boast the second most diverse police department in the entire county.” He points across the station-house to Officer Clark, a young, handsome black man holding a cup of coffee. The officer nods at Butcher.
“Impressive,” Butcher says.
Sheriff Green settles into his chair. He lowers his voice. “What Officer Banks out there doesn't know is I'm not making you two partners just so he can keep an eye on you. You have a pair of eyes of your own, don't you?”
“From what I understand.”
“Use them. Banks isn't exactly the shining light of the force, and that bronze is only getting duller. He's your responsibility as much as you're his.”
Butcher nods, says he understands, and turns to leave.
“Hey, Butcher,” the Sheriff says. “I never asked you- what brought you here?”
“The wife and I were having troubles. She got the house and I got the boot.”
Sheriff Green shakes his head. “That's not what I meant. Why here?”
Butcher considers this. “I thought I could be comfortable here. Seems like a quiet enough town.”
“You mean you could coast by until retirement.”
Butcher shrugs.
“That’s fine, it really is. I don’t need showboats coming to my town, making a lot of noise and burning the place down. You don’t need to go above and beyond here. Shit, I’m overjoyed every time an officer shows up. But when they do show up, what they need to do is follow orders. Get it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Those are my two favorite words, Butcher. The more you say ‘em, the more I smile.”
Link:
http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00MQD2Y3K/
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Brian Martinez was born and raised on Long Island, New York where he lives with his wife, Natalia. He has a degree in Film.
ALSO BY BRIAN MARTINEZ
A Chemical Fire
Kissing You is Like Trying to Punch a Ghost
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The Mountain and The City: A Post-Apocalyptic Tale Page 31
