The Pike_Right To Remain Silent

by Erik Schubach

  I grinned at the little family, typical tourists who were enjoying the city I was quickly falling in love with. I instantly fell into my daily routine, my mind drifting a little during the day whenever I saw a Seattle Police Department officer walk by on foot patrol. I wondered what Danielle was up to.

  It was a pretty good day, moving every couple hours. The highlight of the day was just before I locked down for lunch after the lunch rush at all the eateries on the strip. True to her word, a whirling dervish of red hair came out, dragging an amused Maxine with her.

  They had a fun little impromptu fashion show at the cart, which drew people in. They each wound up with a scarf and Maxine opted for one of my floppy brim felt hats that looked too cute on her. Then after the surge of customers died down a bit, I lowered the flaps and locked them, placing a sign that said, “At lunch, back in thirty minutes.” And moved the little hands on the printed clock face to indicate when I'd return.

  I ate at the Pike. Feeling I was becoming friends with the random Eve and her sister. The rest of the afternoon was much of the same, and I found myself people watching. It was fascinating, the mix of people that came and went through the market. It was easy to picture this same scene playing out for the past hundred years. The Market being a gathering spot of cultures and people over the decades, never changing, yet somehow always evolving.

  The history that this place has seen and will continue to see, caught my imagination, it was one of those anchor points in a city that the world revolved around as it witnessed the coming and going of time. I couldn't stop myself from pulling my sketchbook from my shoulder bag and drawing the concept.

  It was a common theme for me recently. I had five pads now that were filled with what I called the Winds of Change. One day, I'd have the time to dedicate myself to my art. And maybe one day it would be good enough for others to see.

  I sighed when the closing bell rang out at six and apologized to a man who was looking at a scarf for his wife back home. “I'm sorry sir, but the Market is closed. I'm not supposed to stay open past the bell.”

  He looked around and squinted an eye with a hopeful look, holding out a twenty and holding up a scarf that depicted a ferryboat crossing the turbulent waves of the rich oranges and reds of sunset of the dyed scarf. Ok, he was charming. I sighed and rolled my eyes as I shook my head at him. I grabbed his twenty with a grin and said, “Now shoo, before I get in trouble.”

  He looked pleased as punch, and said, “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

  I smiled and waved him off as I started locking up. That was a pretty common occurrence. I could use every dollar. I only made a few dollars per sale over the cost of materials. I really could get in trouble for selling after the bell, but I hated disappointing people, and that guy had the beat puppy dog look, what was I supposed to do?

  I wheeled across the street to wait at the Main Arcade for Johnny to show. A few minutes later our hunk of junk truck pulled up alongside the other vehicles being loaded by other vendors for the night. I started to smile as he slid out of the truck to get the cart loaded, then my blood ran cold as I ran up to him.

  I blurted, “Johhny! What happened? Are you alright?”

  His left eye was almost swollen closed, black bruises spreading below it. His lip was split, and he had a scrape and a heavy bruise on his right cheek. “Have you been fighting?”

  He pushed away my hand as I reached up to his face. “It's nothing.” He dropped the tailgate, not meeting my eyes, and started pulling out the boards.

  I growled out at him, worry coloring my voice, “Johnathan Colby Stone, you tell me what happened right this instant.” I winced at my own voice, I sounded like mom. Something I never, ever wanted. I'd never be like her. Throwing away my life for drugs. Ruining the lives of my family for nothing, for a cheap high.

  He paused looking at his hands holding one of the boards halfway pulled out of the bed of the truck, I noted his knuckles were scraped, red and swollen. He had been fighting! He shook his head. “I said it was nothing. I got into an accident at the scrapyard. A rack fell on me. Bradley fired me for it, saying I didn't follow safety rules.”

  My heart sank. He wasn't telling me the whole truth, but we needed the money from his job. He slammed the board down and walked past me, reading me and hissing, “I'll get another job. Jesus, Maddie, it was just a scrapyard.”

  I muttered, “Don't talk to me in that tone. You're hurt, and I'm worried about you.”

  He grabbed the handles on the cart and said, still not meeting my eyes. “You're not my fucking mom, and I'm not a screw-up. It's not your job.”

  I grabbed one of his arms before he could push the cart up the boards. “Someone has to do it. Look at yourself, Johnny. You're a mess. Don't you get it? I care about you, and I'm scared for you. A new start, remember? I love you, even though you're an ass.”

  He sighed and grinned a bit and finally looked over at me. “Yeah... a new start. I love you too Magoo.”

  I exhaled then leaned my forehead against his chest, he placed a hand on the back of my head, and I asked, “You sure you're ok?”

  He grunted an affirmative and I said more for me than him, “Ok, we'll get through this then.”

  He let go, and I stepped back to let him load the cart as he said, “Whatever... mom.”

  I shook a first at him as I smiled at our familiar banter. “You're such an ass.”

  He grinned back, and I hopped up, and we secured the cart. He seemed fine, banged up and bruised, but joking, so I relaxed a bit of the tension that was pulling at me since I saw his injuries when he got out of the truck.

  We arrived home, and I had to suppress a smile when the garage door opened and I saw O'Brien and Mr. Laurey looking at pieces of wood. They looked out to see us as we pulled in. My eyes widened a bit when I realized each of them were holding half of a now broken spoke. They both looked sheepish and hid the pieces behind them. Dear lord, they were destroying my wheel.

  We got out, and they didn't attempt to greet us as I tried staring Danielle down while I helped unload the cart. I finally asked, “What did you do?”

  Mr. L spoke before she could. “Never you mind. We're learning by trial and error here. Don't worry your pretty little head about it.”

  Dani squinted an eye in pain as she held out part of the broken spoke, “We thought we had it. We have to pull the spokes in compression to get them to slot into the outer rim felloes. Apparently not that much compression.”

  She looked like a beat dog. And my frustration over the destruction slipped away. I couldn't blame her. She was only trying to help me. I'd just have to save up for another wheel. At least my cart was mobile until then, and Johnny had squared up our rent.

  Mr. L spoke up with a consolatory tone, pointing over to one of the work benches with a bundle of wood, “But we went out and bought oak!”

  Like that meant something.

  O'Brien grinned at my befuddlement and said, “For a new spoke. We'll fix it. Just give us a chance.”

  I looked between the wood and them. “That's an awful lot of wood, it's just one spoke.”

  The two looked sheepishly at each other and shared a shrug as she offered, “Umm... we may or may not be confident that this won't happen again.”

  To my surprise, it was Johnny who started laughing. I started to smile until he spoke as he walked past them, “The cop thought she could do something constructive.”

  I glared at the door as he left us there and I huffed out in exasperation and said, “Thank you, really, but you've done enough. The cart is mobile, and I can save up...” My voice trailed off as my eyes widened at the dozens of pieces laid out on the floor in the shape of my wagon wheel. And a second wheel laid out in pieces.

  What the hell? They tore apart the good wheel too? Before I could voice my shock and concern, Mr. Laurey said, “We sort of took the other wheel apart to make sure we knew how it was all assembled. But we'll get it all sorted, jut you wait and see.”

  I almost
whined, “My wheels.”

  Then I narrowed my eyes and looked at the old man. “What are you doing out here with her? Shouldn't you be resting in the house? How did she talk you into this?”

  He sighed in exasperation and said, “I'm old, not dead, girl. I volunteered. It's been a while since I had something to do, and this seemed like a fascinating project for an old grease monkey.”

  Dani finally spoke, “It was his idea to pull apart the other wheel.”

  He glared at her in good humor. “That's right, just throw me under the bus. Ungrateful young traitor.” She shrugged, looking embarrassed, then at me in an almost pleading manner.

  I finally just smiled and shook my head. What good would getting upset be? It isn't like I could use one wheel anyway. And they both looked so earnest. I said in a long drawn out sigh, “I don't have much choice in the matter now do I?”

  This brought out a toothy grin on Dani's face. Damn it, why did the cop have to be so cute? I smiled back, and the two seemed to relax.

  Then Danielle's brow furrowed as she looked back at the side door. “What happened to Johnny, he looked pretty beat up. Everything is ok isn't it?” Was it concern or suspicion on her face?

  I was just getting paranoid. I pushed aside my rising ire at something imagined and then shook my head. “He says it was an accident at work, and he got fired.” I hated how I heard the implied 'again' in my voice. Then I was quick to assure Mr. Laurey, “He'll get another job soon, we won't miss rent.”

  The old guy looked pensive as he waved that off. “Don't worry about it, Maddie. Your good for a couple months, and besides, I like you, you remind me of my Genevieve when she was young.”

  Genevieve was his forty-year-old daughter. A hotshot lawyer in New York. And according to Mr. L, dead-set against giving him any grandkids before he passes. He says she keeps coming up with excuses why she is putting it off, and he suspects she doesn't want children. Oh, sorry, I digress.

  Wait, good for a couple months? I looked up toward my apartment where I could hear John milling around. How big was that bonus?

  The old man moved over to the wall and hit the button to close the far bay.

  I turned back and almost jumped. Danielle was standing in my personal space looking down at me with a warm smile, and a look in her eyes that was causing a tight warmth in my core which was radiating slowly through every cell of my body pushed higher with every heartbeat.

  She lowered her head and whispered hotly in my ear, “Welcome home Mads.” The thrill of a tingle raced down my spine as I felt her hot breath on my ear. I swallowed hard, then she was gone. Cold shower... cold shower... I needed a cold shower to quench the panting arousal she left me in.

  I looked over at her by a tool box, where she was wiping down a chisel with a rag. She looked overly pleased with herself as she said in a singsong voice, “Payback.” Ok, was it too late to apologize for my tease earlier that morning?

  Then she said, “I know what will take your mind off the wheels... dinner, Chinese, on me. I'll call for takeout.”

  I snapped, “I'm not destitute.”

  She held up a hand to stop me and said, “I know, but I broke your broke wheel. Well, actually Sparkplug did...”

  “Did not, you're the one tightening the strap.”

  She parried with a grin “Because you kept yelling, 'Tighter,' at me.”

  He looked both amused and indignant. “I was not yelling, and besides, you didn't have to listen to me.”

  Before things could escalate any further I found myself chuckling at them, they seemed almost like old friends, or family the way they bickered. I held up a hand and lowered my head in defeat. “Fine, order takeout. I need to get cleaned up.” I added silently, “And take a cold shower.” The heat still hadn't left me.

  She grinned like a Cheshire cat and then looked over. “Join us Sparkplug?”

  He furrowed his brow and shook his head. “No, that's fine. Besides, stairs? I'm not as spry as I used to be.”

  I stepped up to him and placed a hand on his arm, remembering how winded he had been when he went up the stairs to show John and I the apartment. He leaned down and kissed the top of my head and said, “See you tomorrow, hon.” I nodded.

  Then he turned and shuffled his way to the door. For some reason that got O'Brien laughing, and she threw her shop rag at his back as she accused, “Faker.” The old man chuckled as he left, leaving me confused at to what that was all about.

  I turned to the woman who was covered with grease and sawdust, it made a primal part of me growl in appreciation. I realized I was perusing her body with my eyes and I looked away and down as I started wringing my hands. I nudged my head toward the door. “Come on up?”

  She looked up and squinted one eye. “I'm not sure how well that would go over with your brother.”

  I shook my head slowly. “He can have his temper tantrums later. He needs to grow up. Besides, I hear chicken fried rice is the olive branch of food.”

  She smiled in amusement, those pale green eyes twinkling, it was all I could do to keep from staring at her lips, wondering if I could finagle another kiss from them tonight.

  “Ok, I'll be up in a minute, I have to clean up and organize here and order the food.”

  I nodded absently. Was she a neat freak or something? But I glanced around looking at the over tidy tools on peg boards and the organized tool boxes and benches. Maybe it was a mechanic's thing? Mr. L's garage was immaculate when we arrived, perfect for my work without worrying abut the fabrics getting dirty.

  I started to move must she grabbed one of my hands gently and give a little squeeze. I glanced down as she let my hand slide from her grip, I couldn't stop the shy smile on my face as I felt my cheeks heat up. I caught a look at her hand, and the smile turned to a grin knowing that that hand was as unique as her.

  I hurried out before I could embarrass myself, and I leaned with my back against the door to catch my breath then hesitated as I looked at the yard. Had Mr. L mowed? I told him I'd do that.

  Chapter 8 – Get Used To It

  As I straightened the crisp creases on my uniform and glanced at myself in the mirror as I tucked my cover under my arm. I nodded at the officer I saw there. I tried to do the department proud. I nodded in satisfaction, the tight, regulation ponytail bobbed behind me from the motion.

  As I found myself doing a lot over the past few days, I caught my thoughts drifting to Maddie's smile, wondering if the uniform turned her off. She seemed to appreciate my tanks and tees more. She probably still had the reticence about the police, though I hoped I could dissuade her of that notion.

  I stopped my hand from moving up to touch my lips. The damn tease kissed me again in our endless game of temptation and arousal. I didn't know how to move past the occasional kisses we'd share when the teasing got too much between us. But when our lips met, it was explosive and always ignited a fire inside me which threatened to swallow everything.

  At least Johnny was coming around a bit. He didn't hide out in the garage or Maddie's room when I was over. I still hadn't worked up the nerve to invite her to my place after work. I really, really, needed to buy some furniture.

  I took one last look. Passable. Then headed out to Courtney to get to work. When I arrived at the parking garage, I pulled up the daily briefings on my laptop, then I called in on my wearable radio five minutes early like I always did, “Officer O'Brien, 919 Pike Place Market.”

  I got the “Officer O'Brien, foot beat at Pike Place, roger.” I squinted in mock pain and muttered to myself, “Yes, please, by all means, remind everyone in the department on the radio what 919 means.” Though I loved my job, I still got endless ribbing on my station duty days once a week. Mine was yesterday, the guys from my academy class make sure to mention at least a dozen times a day how they are assigned to cars.

  Some smartass even left some gel shoe inserts on my desk in the corner of the station, but the joke is on them, I slipped them into my shoes and damn do they make my ach
ing feet feel better.

  I made my way to the Main Arcade and grinned at Maddie as she stood over by her cart for the opening bell. She loved the ceremony. And almost as though she knew eyes were on her, she looked back then her smile bloomed when she saw me.

  I straightened up and went on my patrol, trying to hide the smirk on my face. That bass player, what was her name? Blythe? Was beside her and followed her gaze then said loudly, “Ooo, it's your Officer McHottie.”

  I think I started blushing to the core of my being when others turned back to look at me. I was going to die from embarrassment. But one thing she said was right, I'm pretty sure I'm Madelyn's, if only we could get past her reticence to be with a police officer. I still think we haven't progressed further because she doesn't want to feel like she is betraying her brother.

  It was a pretty uneventful day, I had to break up a fight down on the lower level on Alaskan Way in front of Ye Olde Curiosity Shop by the Aquarium. I listened intently to the radio as I had the two hot-headed tourists calm down on either side of the street. I was worried it was yet another distraction for another theft. One had occurred two days ago on the Main Arcade while we were called down for a disturbance on the lower level near that Mia Jacobs hubcap mural on the exact opposite side of the Market. And like the others, they were just out of view of the market cameras.

  I still hadn't got the call logs from Helena in dispatch for the past couple months so that I could research my theory. It was a lot of information for them to have to put together for me, and Helena promised me I'd have it by tomorrow.

  Stretching, I smiled. I was looking forward to seeing Maddie later. I'd have a couple hours to work on the wheels before she got home. I think Sparkplug and I have it worked out now, after making and breaking a half dozen replacement spokes. We're getting pretty good at cutting new ones now that we had put together a jig. I was starting to like woodworking, I felt like I was creating something with my own hands. I bet that's how Madelyn feels when she creates her art.