He started the cruiser, put the car in drive and tore out of his hiding spot and onto the road, placing his red strobe light on top of the dashboard. The car ahead swerved wildly, and then a small animal—maybe a rabbit—tumbled out from beneath it. He grinned, hoping the driver would be a little rattled, vulnerable after killing a cute little defenseless woodland creature. He flicked on the strobe light.
The Camaro moved to the right, as if to let him pass, but when he pulled behind it, the car slowed to a stop. Slipping on his sunglasses, he exited the car, straightened his uniform and approached the driver’s-side door.
“License and registration,” he said, resting his hand on the butt of his Glock.
“Morning, Officer,” the driver said.
“Don’t make me repeat myself, boy.”
Kyle could smell the fear coming off the young man, a mouthwatering aroma. And it wasn’t simple jitters. The young man was hiding something. Drugs maybe?
The guy handed him a license and a registration card. Kyle scanned the pieces of paper. The license was newly issued. “Just get your license, Aaron?”
“A few months back.”
“Says here you’re twenty-four years old. What’d you wait so long for?”
The young man frowned. “Had a little hiccup a while back. Didn’t need a license where I was living.”
Kyle nodded, not fully understanding what the guy was talking about, but he knew something was up. “I’ll be right back,” he said, turning to head back to his cruiser.
“Officer, wait,” Aaron said.
Kyle stopped, felt a grin spread across his face. He killed it and turned around.
“Yes?”
“Was I speeding? I mean, is that why you pulled me over?”
Kyle flexed his cheek muscles and nudged the sunglasses further up the bridge of his nose. “Were you speeding?”
Aaron sighed. “Look, I want to be honest with you. I might’ve been going a little fast, a few miles an hour over the speed limit, but I swear that’s all. I saw an animal—”
“Stop right there,” Kyle said, holding out a hand. “I don’t give a shit what you say. There’s no excuse, short of a medical emergency. You were speeding. Plain and simple. Period.” He paused for effect, then said, “You might’ve been able to avoid hitting that poor little critter, had you been obeying the speed limit.”
“I’d slowed by then,” Aaron said, his voice desperate, high in pitch. “Please, can’t you give me a warning? My record’s clean. I’m late for work. I had a flat tire this morning. I never speed. Honest.”
Kyle wondered why the guy was so worried. Insurance increase if he received another ticket? Or maybe he had so many that one more meant he’d lose his license?
Kyle forced a smile. “You seem awfully worried about getting a ticket, or is it running your name you fear? You hiding something, Aaron? Drugs maybe?”
“No, sir. You can search my car.”
The guy was confident, indicating the car was most likely clean.
“Have a warrant out for your arrest?”
“No, of course not.”
There was a slight pitch to his tone. Kyle was on to something, getting warmer. He stepped up to the door, leaned down. “Don’t lie to me, boy. When I run your name I’ll find out all I need to know.”
Aaron sighed, looking defeated. “Okay, okay. I’m on parole.”
Ding! Ding! Kyle hit the jackpot. Found a man ripe for the taking. His pulse quickened at the news. He stood, rubbed his chin, then looked at the license again. The guy’s name was Aaron Dupree. His home address was… He knew that address, it was that cunt-bitch’s, Kelly’s. His heart fluttered. He nearly stumbled at the incredible fortune. He looked at Aaron, smiled. They lived at the same address. The guy was her son.
Kyle wanted to howl at the sky and beat his chest like a gorilla, but held himself in check.
“Is this your current address, Aaron?” Kyle asked, holding up the license.
“Yes.”
“Live alone?”
“No, with my mom.”
“Father?”
Aaron shook his head. “He’s no longer with us.”
Kyle felt his manhood stiffen. This was indeed a great morning. He’d never fully believed in fate, good or bad fortune, but he might have to reconsider.
“What did you do?” he asked, salivating for an answer.
“Sorry?” Aaron said, looking confused.
“What did you do to wind up in prison?”
“Officer, I’m really sorry for speeding. I promise I’ll slow down. Really. I give you my word. I don’t mean to be ungrateful for your kindness, but my boss is going to fire me if I’m late. I served six years in Sing Sing Correctional Facility before I was released early on account of my good behavior. I never killed anyone. I was young. Stupid. I’ve learned my lesson and only want to give back to society. Is there some kind of after-school program or youth group that I can attend, you know, talk to troubled teens or something?”
“That was quite a mouthful,” Kyle said. “Can you give me your word that you’ll do something for me?”
“Yes.”
Kyle chuckled, nodding, then turned on the mean. “Your word don’t mean shit to me. Got it? Now tell me what you did or I’ll run your name and find out anyway.”
“I robbed a gas station,” Aaron said, rolling his eyes, looking defeated. “I had a few priors, disorderly conduct, drug possession, so the damn judge threw the book at me. Gave me fifteen years.”
“Harsh,” Kyle said, pretending to feel bad for the guy.
Aaron’s eyebrows shot up. “Yeah. I was only eighteen. High on speed when I did it, and I was just the driver. But I’m clean now, turned my life around.”
“Where’s your partner in crime?”
“Still inside. He got twenty-five to life.”
“Wow. Guess he had priors too, besides getting the wrong judge on the wrong day.”
“Tell me about it, but I learned my lesson. Totally turned my life around. My past is all behind me. I’m trying to start over. Got a job, nothing special, but it’s honest work.”
Kyle shifted his weight. “You sound like a decent fellow, Aaron. A normal dude. And normal people speed once in a while, am I right?”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“But you’re not quite normal, not yet. You’re an ex-con, on parole. You’re in a mobile prison cell. You’ve got to be extra careful, extra law-abiding.”
“I know,” Aaron said, closing his eyes for a second, shaking his head. “I should’ve just called and told my boss I was going to be late. Again, I’m truly sorry.”
Kyle stood erect, crossed his arms over his chest. He pursed his lips, pretending to be contemplating something. “You might say that I hold your future in my hands. A speeding ticket, let alone if I bring you in for disorderly conduct, would be a violation of your parole. Am I correct?”
“Disorderly conduct?” Aaron said, stiffening.
“Just saying… Am I right?”
“Yes, sir,” Aaron said, coldly.
“Tell you what I’m going to do, Aaron. You seem like a good guy, and I believe you when you say you’ve changed.” He uncrossed his arms, smiled. “So how about we forget about this whole thing and I let you get to work?”
“That would be terrific, Officer. I’d be in your debt.”
Kyle grinned and proffered the license. When Aaron went to take it, he yanked it back.
“I do this for people, on occasion, you know. Help people out. People I feel are worthy. I like you, Aaron. So how about you agree to do a favor for me in exchange for letting you off with a warning?”
“Anything.”
“Give me your cell phone number so I can get in touch with you when I have something for you to do,” Kyle said, and pulled out his own
cell phone.
“Okay, sure,” Aaron said, and rattled off the digits.
Kyle punched them into his phone and tried the number. He heard a phone ring from somewhere inside the Camaro. “Just making sure,” he said, winking, then put his phone away and handed back the license.
“Thank you, Officer. I really appreciate this.”
“Before you leave,” Kyle said, “I want you to know how lucky you are, and when I call, I expect you to pick up. Do whatever it is I ask, understand?”
Kyle saw a hint of nervousness befall the young man—his Adam’s apple moved up and down as he swallowed. “Um, yeah, of course.”
“And if you ignore me, tell me you’re too busy, the next time I pull you over, I’ll find one of these on you.” Kyle held up a small baggie filled with white powder. It was only flour, but that was his secret.
Aaron’s eyes widened as the color drained from his face.
“Do we have an understanding?”
Aaron nodded his head, his eyes not seeming to be focused on anything.
Kyle shoved the baggie back into his pocket. He smiled, patted Aaron on his shoulder. “Relax, son. It won’t come to that, unless you disappoint me.” He took a step back. “You get going now, wouldn’t want you to be late for work.”
Aaron looked at him, like a dog afraid of its abusive owner, then started the car and pulled away.
Chapter Four
Aaron glanced at his phone and wasn’t sure if he’d make it to work on time, so he called the manager, Mike, and told him he might be a few minutes late due to a flat tire.
“Don’t sweat it, Aaron,” Mike said. “A few minutes are no biggie. Thanks for calling.”
He was relieved Mike wasn’t upset, but his frame of mind was no better. He was pissed and scared at the same time, his legs weak, shaky. He couldn’t believe of all things, he’d run into a dirty cop, threatening him with a baggie of coke or whatever was in it. Of course, a straight and narrow cop might’ve run his name and given him a ticket; then again, a straight and narrow cop might’ve let him off with a warning. Either way, he was grateful he hadn’t been issued a ticket. But still, the way the cop had acted…the way he looked at him…
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Aaron yelled.
Everything had been going so well, at least as well as a man on parole could wish for. Life was uneventful, even boring. Perfect. Aaron didn’t need any excitement in his life, and now a dirty cop was a part of it. He’d even managed, with the help of his mother, to get a job that paid above minimum wage. Washing dishes in an Italian restaurant wasn’t a dream job by any stretch, but it was honest work, kept him out of trouble and made him feel like a part of society.
Since getting out of prison, he had run into some old buddies, but he made sure they knew he wasn’t available. It amazed him to learn that many were wanted by the law, or simply hadn’t changed and had gotten lucky to not have been arrested.
Initially, he’d also worried about his parole officer, wondering if he’d get a mean son of a bitch, some dirty piece of shit, but Henry was a nice man and seemed very fair, not like some of the assholes he’d heard about when he was in prison.
Aaron just hoped his luck hadn’t run out.
He arrived at work ten minutes later and drove around back where employees were permitted to park. Even with everything that had happened, he had a few minutes to spare. He sat for a moment, listening to the silence, wondering what he could do about the cop. Go down to the police station and make a complaint? Tell the truth about what had happened? He laughed aloud at himself for thinking such ridiculous notions. Who would take his side over the cop’s? He was an ex-con, on parole, sent away for armed robbery, a violent offense. There was a chance the officer had a history of complaints, but Aaron couldn’t risk it. The bottom line: it would be his word against the cop’s, and the pig’s brothers in blue would back him. The only thing that would come from his reporting on the dirty cop would be his ass back in prison. And truth be told, what had the cop really done? Threaten him with a bag of what…baby powder?
With no other choice, he decided to let things play out. If the cop did get in touch with him, he would use his cell phone and record their conversation. He’d then have the blackmail he needed to get the cop to leave him alone. Or better yet, maybe the scumbag wouldn’t even call and had simply wanted to scare him.
He sighed, then opened the car door and headed in to work.
Two days went by and Aaron went about life as usual. He never forgot about the cop, keeping an eye out for the unmarked gray sedan wherever he went. He never sped. It seemed whenever he was in his car, the cop was on his mind. He loved driving, and now the activity was tainted, but he hoped that with each passing day, and with the cop nowhere to be seen or heard from, he would be able to enjoy driving again.
Four days after the run-in, he began to think the cop wasn’t dirty, guessing the oinker was simply a ball buster who enjoyed frightening drivers, especially ones on parole, but who deep down was a good guy. The baggie of cocaine was nothing more than baking soda—a prop. Whatever the case, he hoped never to see the guy again.
When Friday came around, Aaron was invited out to Mo’s, a local dive bar, for drinks. Most of the employees, including Hanna, a cute girl who always flirted with him, were going there. He’d been asked a number of times, but always refused, saying he had to work a different job on Saturday that required him to rise from sleep very early in the morning. It killed him to keep his distance from the others, especially Hanna. No one but the owner and manager knew he was on parole and had a curfew of 9:00 p.m.
“Hey, Aaron,” Hanna said as he was finishing up in the kitchen. He turned to face her. “We’re going over to Mo’s tonight. Want to come?”
Aaron smiled. Hanna was hot and cute at the same time, and had a great attitude, always friendly and polite, even with the assholes who frequented the restaurant. In his eyes, she was perfect, at least from what he knew of her. She had no idea how much he hated turning her down.
“You don’t give up, do you?” he said.
“Nope. We’re all going and it just wouldn’t be polite to not invite you,” she said.
“I’d love to,” he said, “but I have to get up early tomorrow.”
“Oh, c’mon,” she pleaded, batting her eyelashes. She nudged his chest. “It’ll be fun, I promise.”
His groin tingled and his chest hitched. Her smile was radiant, her perfume intoxicating. As difficult as it was, he forced himself to lie. “I’ve got to get up at five a.m.”
Hanna frowned. “That sucks. I was so looking forward to letting loose tonight, having a few drinks, playing some pool, you know, what Friday night was made for.”
Damn, she wasn’t making this easy for him. She was so sexy and clearly liked him. Erin, one of the waitresses, had told him two weeks ago that Hanna thought he was cute. As much as he’d wanted to ask her out, his circumstances prevented him from doing so. A girl like Hanna would never go out with an ex-con, especially one who had a curfew and lived with his mommy. She could get any guy she desired, so why him? Just the universe screwing with him, he guessed. Maybe he should tell her that he was on parole. Then she’d never ask him again.
“Let me give you my number,” she said, “just in case you change your mind.”
“Um, okay,” he said, and stood there, staring at her.
Hanna giggled. “You going to take out your phone, or do you have a great memory for numbers?”
“Oh, yeah,” he said, shaking his head. “Sure.” He felt like an idiot, his face reddening. Reaching into his jeans pocket, he pulled out his phone and saw that he had a missed call, the number private. He’d been busy earlier, hands soaked with soap suds, when he felt his phone vibrate, and he’d forgotten to check it. He looked at Hanna and she gave him her phone number.
“Call me if you change your mind. I’d really li
ke you to come.” She winked, spun around and marched out of the kitchen.
During the drive home, Aaron stopped off at the grocery store and picked up a few things he knew were needed at home. After placing the bags in the back seat, he sat behind the steering wheel, frustrated. He couldn’t get the conversation with Hanna out of his mind. She was clearly into him and he was being an idiot. A girl like her wouldn’t be available for long. He wondered why she didn’t have a boyfriend, let alone a husband, already. And he was so tired of sitting in his house, night after night. Parole wasn’t ending anytime soon. He had at least a few years left. He was fed up with hiding who he really was.
Even if Hanna looked past his history, how long would she put up with his curfew? Sure, he could have her over to the house, all night in fact, but what girl would want to do that for the next few years?
Aaron felt a headache coming on, closed his eyes and leaned his head back. He thought about giving in, living a little. He could head home, shower, change, and go out tonight. Chances were good he wouldn’t get caught. He’d only have a beer or two, hang out with the people from work, with Hanna, then go home around midnight. He’d be able to be normal for a night. Maybe, just maybe, he’d even get laid. It wasn’t something he was expecting, and he even felt a little slimy for thinking it, but if it happened, he wouldn’t object.
It had been a little over six years since he’d gotten laid. Out from behind bars, he jerked off to porn, which was a huge step up from the wrinkled, faded and come-stained magazine pictures he’d obtained in the joint. But as great as the porn was, it just wasn’t doing it for him anymore. He needed the real thing.
Fuck it, he thought, opening his eyes. He liked Hanna and was going to meet up with her tonight. His mother usually went out on Friday nights and didn’t come home until late, usually after one a.m., sometimes two a.m. So unless she was staying home, he was going out.
Having made up his mind, he started the car and drove home, his headache gone.
The Unhinged Page 4
