by Evan Ronan
“I don’t as long as you don’t.”
She sighs relief. “Thank you. You have no idea how difficult this has been. The media just started to leave us alone.”
“Have you talked to Shawn over at the police department?” I ask. “He’s a close friend. You can trust him.”
“Shannon won’t bring any charges against Marcus,” she says, shaking her head. “She says that she loved him and went willingly.”
“A fifteen-year-old girl doesn’t do something like that willingly,” I say.
“I know.” A cloud seems to pass over Tarika. “But if she’s not willing to testify against him, there really is no case. I was in the process of arranging the, um, testing on her but she disappeared before that could happen.”
We stand, the meeting over. Then a panicked expression crosses her face, till she remembers she moved her bag onto the floor.
“Sorry,” she says. “I’ve got this bad habit recently of leaving things I need, like my bag, right by the front door on the table. I’m just so absent-minded anymore.”
“Can’t imagine why.”
She picks up her bag and gives me a grateful smile.
I show her out the back. I can’t believe it’s been an hour since she walked into my pool hall. The world seems to have changed in that time. My back is sweaty, my nerves frayed. After taking a few more minutes in the office, I emerge in the hall. Wally and Roy are playing straight pool as they normally do, while Bernie looks up quickly from his computer.
“Well?” he practically shouts across the hall.
Several other players stop their games to look over at me. Bernie, realizing his gaffe, tries to recover quickly.
“Are the … soft pretzels … going to be … delivered tomorrow?” he stumbles his way through.
Oh, Bernie. All the world is apparently not a stage.
“Yeah, Bern.” I meet him at the counter and give him a look. “How’s it going out here?”
He lowers his voice. “Sorry about that, sometimes I can’t help myself.”
“Alright. Just be more discreet in the future. That woman has been through pure hell and she doesn’t want anybody else getting into her business.”
“Roger that.” He flips another salute. Then he points. “Wally’s here.”
“That detail has not escaped my attention,” I say.
“I’m just saying,” Bernie responds meekly, looking over at his laptop. “Just saying.”
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“Nothing,” Bernie says. Then his face turns bright red.
What the hell?
“Nothing is going on,” Bernie says. “I was just saying.”
“Oh hell, Bernie.”
I walk over to the table that Wally and Roy have been playing on for many years. Wally is running away with this game. He’s got one hundred fifty-three points to Roy’s fifty-six. And he’s still got the table.
Wally pockets the one ball, leaving just the thirteen in perfect position by the next rack. He comes out of his stance, shares a knowing look with Roy, then faces me.
“Hey, Greg. Great to see you.”
These guys are like the uncles I never had. That being said, I’ve never got such a reception from either of them before.
“Great to see you too, Wally.”
Roy has gone to the other side of the table. He’s taking his time reracking.
“Alright.” I hold up both hands. “You guys are being weird. What’s up?”
“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Wally opens. “But today is goodbye, Greg.”
For the life of me, I have no idea what this means. I glance at Roy, who is staring down at the pool table while racking.
“Are you quitting the game or something?” I ask.
Wally shakes his head no. “I sold my place a few days before you left for vacation. I’m moving to Florida. My boy, who I never thought would even get married, is starting a family. His wife is due in a few months.”
“Wally …” I don’t know what to say. A part of me assumed foolishly that these two guys would always be here. They remind me of so many different things. But most of all, they remind me of Pop. They were his friends before I was even born. They were like mentors long before they were my friends.
“He’s all the family I got left,” Wally explains. “I don’t plan on getting married again. Marriage didn’t agree with me. I got a brother in Denver and a sister in San Francisco but we’re not close anymore. All I got is my boy and now that he’s settling down, I want to be near him.”
“Shit, Wally, you should have said something. We would have done this right. Closed the place down, make it invite only. We could have gotten all the guys together, I’m sure Shine and Digger and the Kraut would have been up for it. I would have thrown you a huge going-away party.”
“Not my style, Greg.” Wally shrugs. “I don’t like being the center of attention.”
Damn it would have been great to see all the old-timers again, if only for one night. It would have been like it was twenty, thirty years ago. Back when Pop was still running the joint and I was just a kid.
Wally and I just look at each other a moment, neither of us knowing what else to say. So I thrust my hand out.
“Congratulations are in order then. You’re going to be a grandfather.”
“I never thought the day would come,” he says.
Roy laughs. “He isn’t wise enough to be a granddad.”
“They say sixty is the new fifty,” Bernie chimes in, ever the helpful one.
Wally shakes his head. “What do they say about sixty-eight, though?”
We all chuckle at this, but the laughter is a little hollow. After all these years, I got real used to seeing this uncle-like figure every day in the hall. It won’t be the same without him. And as much as I’ll miss Wally, all of a sudden I grow worried about Roy. He’s been coming here with Wally every day for a million years. Sure, other old-timers come in here too but not with the same frequency.
Roy, for once, doesn’t have anything quippy to say. He’s finished racking for what, I suddenly realize, will be their last game of straight pool for a long time, if not forever. And it’s true what they say—
All things end suddenly.
I don’t have the words so I surprise Wally with a hug.
“You’re a good man, Greg,” he says. “Your Pop would be proud of you.”
My heart is heavy. “Thanks.”
Wally lowers his voice. “I love this place, Greg, but don’t let it drag you down. If it’s not earning for you, your Pop would want you to sell it.”
“I know.” But I can’t let go yet. Not yet.
“Alright, that’s enough sentiment and advice,” Wally says. “I’ve got one more game to win against this knucklehead.”
Roy smiles but his eyes are sad. I don’t pass Go, I don’t collect my two hundred dollars, I just head on back to the office where I think about time and old age and good friends, long gone. We make so much of our life about money, and while it’s important, it’s really not the most important thing.
Friendship and love are more important.
So is time.
That mixed drink, which nearly left my throat with third degree burns two hours ago, is still sitting on the edge of my desk. I pour it down my throat and think about Pop and think about the pool hall.
Eight
My ex, Lorelei, is surprised to see me. And she fails to hide her annoyance at my sudden appearance on her doorstep.
“We weren’t expecting you,” she says, blocking the door so I can’t see in.
“Totally my fault.” I hold out a hand like I’m asking her to slap me on the wrist. “I just …” Just what, Greg? “I was supposed to take Tammy out tomorrow night, but I don’t think I’ll be able to. I was wondering if I could take her out now?”
Lorelei looks at me strangely. “Are you okay?”
“It’s been a weird day.”
“Yeah.” Lorelei looks be
hind her.
“Everything alright?” I ask.
“It is.” She turns back around. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
Light bulb moment. “You’ve got someone over.”
“Yes.” Her cheeks turn a touch red. “I was going to tell you.”
I’m in a weird space. Lorelei’s love life is her business, not mine. But at the same time, she’s brought someone home. That’s a big deal because our daughter has met him. I would have liked Lorelei to loop me in for that reason and that reason alone.
“I was going to tell you,” she says again. “He wanted to cook for Tammy and me.”
“A cook?” I force a smile. “He’s got me beat there.”
I meant it as a joke, but Lorelei doesn’t laugh. Damnit, why is this awkward? I don’t care if she dates. I mean, I do care to the extent my daughter’s life is affected. I don’t want Lorelei bringing him some asshole to one day be a stepdad for our girl. I want Lorelei to be happy and find somebody, if that’s what she wants.
“Look, I’m sorry I didn’t call first. That’s my fault.” Deep breath. “But I would have appreciated a call from you about introducing your boyfriend to Tammy.”
“Greg.” Lorelei looks behind her again. I still can’t see inside the house and I realize—
She doesn’t want me to.
The alarm bells start sounding in my head.
“She’s fourteen years old now,” Lorelei justifies, “so she’s not a little girl anymore. I planned on letting you know.”
I avoid that. Go with the much more challenging, “Who is he?”
She frowns. “I can date whoever I want, Greg.”
“I never said you couldn’t. I’m just asking who he is.”
“You never said you couldn’t?” She gives me an offended look. “Do you hear yourself right now?”
“Lor, I’m the guy who just found out …” Deep breath. This isn’t helping. “All I’m saying is, I would have appreciated a heads-up before you introduced Tammy to your boyfriend. I don’t think I’m being unfair.”
She looks down. Takes her own deep breath. There is no manual for dealing with an ex-spouse. We’ve had to feel our way through this. For the most part, we’ve done a good job. But every once in a while, there are little jagged moments like this.
I smile. “Lor, we always treat each other with respect and support one another when it comes to our daughter. We still find a way to make joint decisions about her and we communicate a lot. I’d say we’re doing great as ex-spouses. Now, I should have called first, and you should have called me too.” I pretend to wash my hands. “Even Steven, alright?”
A tentative smile. Another look behind her. “Alright.”
“So who’s the lucky guy?”
She bites her bottom lip. “It’s Shawn.”
It takes me a moment. “You mean Shawn, my long-time friend and buddy on the police force?”
That bottom lip is still under her top teeth.
She nods. “Yeah.”
Shawn?
Shawn?
You’re dating one of my friends?
And Shawn didn’t say anything to me?
In my mind, I say, What the fuck? But in reality, I say, “Shawn’s a good guy.”
The door opens wide. Lorelei is not the one to open it. It’s Shawn.
“Hey, Greg.”
It’s weird to see another man standing beside Lorelei inside the door to the house I once called home. Especially when that man is my friend.
“Would you like to come in?” Lorelei asks.
“Greg,” Shawn says, before I can figure out what the hell to do, “we didn’t plan for this to happen. We just happened to be at the same bar one night and got to talking. Next thing we knew, we were dating and it all happened so quickly.”
So you and my ex started sleeping together, began to have feelings, and then didn’t know how to tell me.
“I should have called,” I say, my eyes bouncing back and forth from Shawn to Lorelei, my emotions swinging wildly. “That was my fault.”
“No, Greg,” Lorelei says, putting her hand on my forearm. “I should have called you.”
With eyes downturned, I can see how awful she feels. Shawn is squirming in the doorway too. I’m not making this any easier for them, but I’m not sure I want to.
“Could I see Tammy for a minute?” I ask.
“Sure!” Lorelei practically yells. “Come in!”
She’s pulling me inside, grateful for the change of subject. Shawn moves back and lingers on the other side of the foyer, hands in his pocket. He doesn’t know what to do with his eyes.
“I wanted to call,” Shawn says.
“But you thought the message should come from Lorelei,” I point out.
He nods.
I don’t know how to feel. Betrayed is not a reasonable response to this situation. Lorelei and I are not a couple. I don’t get a say in who she’s with. Nor do I want to get back together with her. We weren’t right for each other.
Shawn is a grown man and can date whoever he wants. Ergo, I should have no problem with them dating.
But emotions don’t really listen to reason, do they?
Tammy comes downstairs. “Hey, Dad!”
She runs into my arms, nearly bowls me over. She’s taller than Lorelei now. Maybe she’ll be as tall as me.
“Hey, Tammy.”
Shawn uses this as an excuse to make an Irish exit out of the foyer.
“What are you doing here?” Tammy asks loudly, then lowers her voice. “I told Mom to call you.”
That makes me smile. At fourteen, my daughter is looking out for me.
“Sweetheart, that’s between your mother and me. You don’t have to worry about things like that. Okay?”
“I know.” She rolls her eyes. “But it wasn’t right.”
I put my hands on her shoulders. “I’m real sorry, but I have to cancel tomorrow night.”
We had plans to catch a movie and grab dinner after. The latest Christopher Nolan flick is out and Tammy is a huge fan. In the last year, she really got into movies. Apple doesn’t fall far.
“Awww, you serious?” she asks, putting a hand on her hip. And I sense her colossal disappointment shift from her mother to me. “Don’t tell me you’re on another case.”
“I’m on another case.”
“Dad!” Her eyes bulge. “Are you for real?”
“I am for real.”
“You were almost killed last time!” She swivels her head. “Mom! Dad’s taking another case!”
Before I can put the pin back in the grenade, Lorelei appears in the foyer. She’s come in so quickly, I wonder if she’s installed a hidden door somewhere.
“You’re on another case?” she demands.
Oh boy.
“Yes, I—”
“What’s this one?” Lorelei asks.
“Yeah, Dad, what’s this one?” Tammy chirps.
“I can’t talk about it,” I say. “But someone really needs my help.”
“You can’t talk about it?” Tammy asks. “This is crazy! You’re not a PI!”
“Sometimes I am.”
I can sense Shawn lurking in the background. He’s police, after all, so naturally he’d have a professional curiosity in what I was doing.
He pokes his head in the foyer. “Anything I can help with, Greg?”
“Do not offer to help him,” Lorelei says. “That’ll just encourage him to keep doing this.”
Shawn, though, wants to make up for the fact that he and Lorelei dropped this bomb on me the wrong way. “If I can help, you let me know.”
“Thanks, Shawn.”
Lorelei’s eyes are narrowed. “Shawn, you and I are going to talk about this.”
I hold out a palm. “Alright. We’re all being ridiculous. So let’s hit the pause button. In ten seconds, we’re all going to start laughing.”
“What, you’re a hypnotist now?” Lorelei says.
“What’s the difference between
snowmen and snowwomen?” I ask.
“Dad, really?” Tammy asks, knowing already she’ll hate the joke.
“I’ve heard this one before,” Shawn says.
Of course he has. Cops have heard them all.
Lorelei shakes her head. “Something about yellow snow?”
“Snowballs,” I say.
The joke is so bad, it’s funny.
“Awww, Dad. That joke is terrible,” Tammy says.
But she starts laughing.
So does Lorelei.
Even Shawn, who’s heard it and every other one before, cracks a smile.
And we start acting like reasonable people again.
***
Tarika Lahill and her daughter live almost thirty minutes away in Willingham. It’s the most diverse town in the county. There used to be a machine shop and a big paper mill here. Now both those operations are gone, but many of the descendants of the blue-collar folk who worked there reside in Willingham.
Tarika’s house sits on the middle of a shady block. A big sycamore tree in front of each house, long lanky branches from either side of the street forming a canopy over the street. The house itself looks about twelve-hundred square feet. Big enough for a mother and her daughter. Not big enough for anybody else. Most of the cars on the block are at least five years old. A few kids play on the corner, zipping around on their bikes.
I open up the fast food bag and bite into the hamburger. It’s absolutely disgusting. I hate that I’m missing dinner with Tammy.
Before I got here, I met Tarika a couple blocks away at a strip mall. She told me that Shannon had not left her room all day, before handing me a case file.
“This is from Myron Strommel,” she explains. “He was the last PI I hired, who went to Mexico to find her.”
Now I’m sitting across the street from Tarika’s house in my car, looking conspicuous as hell. This is a busy residential street. One of the neighbors is going to notice me and sooner or later someone is going to knock on my window. But I leave that for another day. I wanted to get a feel for the block.
I thumb through Myron Strommel’s case file while I wait. The sun goes down. I decide to be brave and try the French fries. Not all superheroes wear capes. The fries a.re at least edible. The diet soda is flat but I’m thirsty so I drink it anyway. I’ve read somewhere that diet soda is worse for you than alcohol, that it actually causes a diabetic-like reaction in your body when you drink it.
