New Title 3

by H. T. Night

  We discussed a retainer fee and then he wrote me a check. When he left, waddling out of the office, I could almost hear Schroeder playing on his little piano in the background.

  2.

  “He was found with the murder weapon,” said Detective Hanson. “It was in the backseat of his car. That’s damning evidence.”

  “That,” I said, “and he’s black.”

  “And he’s black,” said Hanson.

  “In an all white school,” I said.

  “Yep.”

  “Were his prints on the knife?”

  “No.”

  We were sitting in an outdoor café facing the beach. It was spring, and in southern California that’s as good as summer. Many underdressed women were roller-blading, jogging or walking their dogs on the narrow beach path. There were also some men, all finely chiseled, but they were not as interesting.

  Detective Hanson was a big man, but not as big as me. He had neat brown hair parted down the middle. His thick mustache screamed cop. He wore slacks and a white shirt. He was sweating through his shirt. I was dressed in khaki shorts, a surfing T-shirt and white Vans. Coupled with my amazing tan and disarming smile, I was surprised I wasn’t more often confused with Jimmy Buffet. If Jimmy Buffet stood six foot four and weighed two hundred and twenty.

  “You guys have anything else on the kid?” I asked.

  “You know I can’t divulge that. Trial hasn’t even started. The info about the knife made it to the press long ago, so that’s a freebie for you. I can tell you this: the body was found at one a.m., although the ME places the time of death around seven p.m. the previous night.”

  “Who found the body?”

  “A neighbor.”

  “Where were the victim’s parents?”

  “Dinner and dancing. It was a Friday night.”

  “Of course,” I said. “Who doesn’t go out and dance on a Friday night?”

  “I don’t,” said Hanson.

  “Me neither,” I said. “Does Derrick have an alibi?”

  “This will cost you a tunacoda.”

  “You drive a hard bargain.”

  I called the waitress over and put in our lunch orders.

  “No alibi,” Hanson said when she had left, “but....” He let his voice trail off.

  “But you believe the kid?”

  He shrugged. “Yeah. He seems like a good kid. Says he was working out at the school gym at the time.”

  “Schools have janitors, staff, students.”

  “Yeah, well, it was late and no one saw him.”

  “Or no one chose to see him.”

  Hanson shrugged.

  Our food arrived. A tunacoda for the detective. A half pound burger for me, with grilled onions and cheese, and a milkshake.

  “You trying to commit suicide?” he asked.

  “I’m bulking up,” I said.

  “This is how you bulk up? Eating crap?”

  “Only way I know how.”

  “Why?”

  “Thinking of trying out for San Diego,” I said.

  “The Chargers?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What about your leg?”

  “The leg’s going to be a problem.”

  He thought about that, working his way through his tuna and avocado sandwich. He took a sip from his Coke.

  “You wanna bash heads with other men and snap each other in the shower with jock straps, go right ahead.”

  “It’s not as glamorous as that.”

  “Suicide, I say. What’s your dad think?”

  “He doesn’t know. You’re the first person I’ve told.”

  “I’m honored.”

  “You should be.”

  “What’s Cindy going to say?”

  I sipped my milkshake. “She won’t like it, but she will support me. She happens to think very highly of me and my decisions.”

  He snorted and finished his sandwich, grabbed his Styrofoam cup.

  “I can’t believe I was bribed with a shitty tuna sandwich and a Coke.”

  “A simple man with simple needs.”

  “I should resent that remark, if it wasn’t so true.” He stood. “I gotta run. Good luck with the kid, but I think it’s a lost cause. Kid even has a record.”

  “What kind?”

  “Vandalism, mostly. He’s a goner. Hear they’re gonna try him as an adult.”

  Detective Hanson left with his Styrofoam cup. I noticed he wasn’t wearing socks. Even cops in Huntington Beach are cool.

  3.

  Cindy Darwin is an anthropology professor at UCI. Her expertise is in the anthropology of religion, which, she tells me, is an important aspect of anthropology. And, yes, she can trace her lineage back to Charles Darwin, which makes her a sort of icon in her field. She knows more things about anthropology than she probably should, and too few things about the real world. Maybe that’s why she keeps me around.

  It was late and we were walking hand-in-hand along the Huntington Pier. From here we could see the lights of Catalina Island, where the reclusive sorts live and travel via ferry and plane. To the north, in the far distance, we could see Long Beach glittering away. The air was cool and windy and we were dressed in light jackets and jeans. Her jeans were much snugger and more form-fitting than mine. As they should be.

  “I’m thinking of giving San Diego a call,” I said.

  “Who’s in San Diego?” she asked. She had a slightly higher pitched voice than most women. I found it endlessly sexy. She said her voice made it easier to holler across an assembly hall. Gave it more range, or something.

  I was silent. She put two and two together. She let go of my hand.

  “They call you again?” she asked. “The Rams, right?”

  “The Chargers. Christ, Cindy, your own brother plays on the team.”

  “I think it’s all sort of silly. Football, I mean. And all those silly mascots, I just don’t get it.”

  “The mascots help us boys tell the teams apart,” I said. “And, no, they didn’t call. But I’m thinking about their last offer.”

  “Honey, that was two years ago.”

  She was right. I turned them down two years ago. My leg hadn’t felt strong enough.

  “The leg’s better now,” I said.

  “Bullshit. You still limp.”

  “Not as much. And when I workout, I feel the strength again.”

  “But you still have metal pins it.”

  “Lots of players play with pins.”

  “Have you told Rob yet?” she asked. Rob was her brother, the Chargers fourth wide receiver. Rob had introduced me to Cindy during college.

  “Yes.”

  “What does he think?”

  “He thinks it’s a good idea.”

  We stopped walking and leaned over the heavy wooden rail. The air was suffused with brine and salt. Waves crashed beneath us, whitecaps glowing in the moonlight. A lifeguard Jeep was parked next to us, a quarter into the ocean on the pier. All that extra weight on the pier made me nervous.

  “Why now?” she asked finally.

  “My window is rapidly closing,” I said.

  “Not to mention you’ve always wondered if you could do it.”

  “Not to mention.”

  “And you’re frustrated out of your gourd that a fucking leg injury has prevented you from finding this out.”

  “Such language from an anthropologist.”

  She sighed and hugged me around my waist. She was exactly a foot shorter than me, which made hugging easy, and kissing difficult.

  “So what do you think?” I asked.

  “I think you’re frustrated and angry and that you need to do this.”

  “Not to mention I might just make a hell of a fullback.”

  “Is he the one who throws the ball?”

  We had gone over this precisely one hundred and two times.

  “No, but close.”

  She snuggled closer, burying her sharp chin deep into my side. It tickled. If I wasn’t so t
ough I would have laughed.

  “Just don’t get yourself hurt.”

  “I don’t plan to, but these things have a way of taking you by surprise.”

  “So are you really that good?” she asked, looking up at me.

  “I’m going to find out.”

  She looked away. “If you make the team, things will change.”

  I hugged her tighter. “I know.”

  Also Available at your favorite ebookseller:

  WINNING SARAH’S HEART

  Boy meets Girl Chronicles #1

  by

  H.T. NIGHT

  (read on for a sample)

  Chapter One

  It was the last day of summer and I was going into the sixth grade. I woke up feeling pretty impatient, as I always did on the day the school posted the classroom lists. Each year, the day before Wenchester Elementary School began, the school posted a list for each classroom so that the students could see which class they would be in during the year.

  For some reason this had always been a huge event in my life. I anticipated it the way little children anticipate Christmas morning.

  This year would be a tad different. I had finally made it. I was at the top. I was a sixth grader!

  At Wenchester, there were two sixth-grade classrooms. The teachers were Mr. O’Neil and Mrs. Phyllis. Mr. O’Neil was tall, slender, and non-threatening in his appearance. He had a reputation of being real strict. Mrs. Phyllis, on the other hand, was simply young and beautiful. She had blonde hair and blue eyes that hid behind red glasses that made her look like a secretary. So, given the two choices for having a teacher, I thought it was fair to say I would rather be in Mrs. Phyllis’s class.

  “Wake up!” screeched a female voice outside my room.

  “You actually thought I might be asleep?” I yelled back.

  “Mom wants us to walk to the store and get lunch.” With that, she threw open the door. It was my sister, Carrie. Everyone said we looked alike. We would both argue to our deathbeds that we didn’t. She was a year younger than I was. The sad part about it was we were in the same grade. I was held back a year by my mother. She said it was for emotional reasons. If you ask me, I thought my mother wished she had given birth to twins. She figured that even though we didn’t come out at the same time, she would make us go to school at the same time.

  I used to live in Arizona with my mother and father. My parents divorced when I was three years old. My dad moved to Texas with his girlfriend a year later. I would only speak to him about four times a year. I saw him once at Christmas time when I was seven years old. We didn’t have much of a father-son relationship. I was supposed to love him because he was my dad. It was hard to love someone you never saw, especially when that someone chose not to see you.

  My mother, sister and I live in Southern California. The three of us moved here after my mom and dad divorced. I figure I’ll probably leave California someday when I’m older, but, for now, it’s an okay place to live, I guess.

  “Blayne called, he said he’ll meet you at the basketball courts at two o’clock,” Carrie said with a smile. My sister has a crush on Blayne since we were little kids.

  “Did he mention if Timmy would be there?” I asked.

  “What am I, your personal answering service?”

  “You are when Blayne calls.”

  “I don’t like Blayne,” she protested. “You always say I like Blayne. I might have thought he was cute when I was little, but I don’t like him anymore.”

  “Whatever,” I said, pushing her out of my room.

  It was hard not to be overly excited knowing that the classroom lists were going to be posted. I wanted to have five people in my classroom. I wanted Blayne Ward and Timmy Lawson because they were my two best friends. I also hoped to have Tanya Taylor and Ali Moore because they were the two prettiest girls in the sixth grade.

  Then, there was the new girl. She moved here at the end of the year. She wasn’t in my class.

  Her name was Sarah Davis. She was the type of girl who seemed very mysterious. She didn’t say much. She would just keep to herself at recess. I always paid attention to her though. We walked home in the same direction from school.

  On the last day of school, I decided to do something that was very unlike me. That day I decided to pass my house and go to the market and get a candy bar. I was curious to see where Sarah lived. I walked behind her for about a mile. She happened to walk into Pete’s market. It was the only place to go, aside from the Laundromat.

  I walked in after her and grabbed a bag of chips and a soda. I noticed Tommy Madkins was in there with a couple of his friends playing video games. Tommy was by far the biggest bully to ever go to Wenchester Elementary School. He started to get a reputation when he was in fourth grade. It was fair to say we had a lot of jerks in the sixth grade.

  I walked up to the counter and Sarah was in front of me. All she had in her hand was a loaf of bread. She was much shorter than me and had sandy brown hair. Her eyes stood out the most. She had these big green eyes.

  I stood behind her, admiring her, when I heard, “Greer!” I hated when someone called me by my last name. I turned around to see Tommy and his clan of jerks laughing. “Is that your girlfriend?” Tommy asked, laughing even harder. This made Sarah turn around and look at us.

  “No,” I said, “I don’t even know her.” I felt stupid. It was the truth though. I had never even spoken a word to her.

  She looked at me and gave me the most innocent smile.

  I smiled back. However, whenever someone caught me off guard with a smile, I would try to smile back but it usually looked odd, like I was posing for a toothpaste commercial or something. She paid and went out the door.

  Then I heard, “Let’s go!” It came from Tommy’s direction. He and his buddies ran out the door. They ran behind the market and picked up a plastic bag full of water balloons.

  I knew this wasn’t going to be good. And what happened next was something I could have never imagined.

  I ran outside. Tommy and his friends were chasing Sarah. It was crazy. They had the water balloons and were hurling them at her.

  Sarah started to run down the street with Tommy’s clan close behind. I dropped my bag of chips and soda, and ran as hard as I ever had in my life. I was always a fast runner. I caught up to them pretty quick. I grabbed the bag of water balloons out of Tommy’s friend’s hand and threw it in the street. A semi truck driving by, hit the bag and all the water balloons exploded.

  Tommy was still ahead of me with the last water balloon. He was gaining on Sarah. I was amazed how fast she could run.

  I caught up to Tommy. At first I didn’t know what to do. This was the toughest guy in the school, but I didn’t care. I jumped on top of him and tackled him hard to the ground. We were both wearing shorts. I knew the cement hurt him as much as it hurt me. Before I knew it, I found myself in the middle of a fight. We were both throwing punches. It lasted for about a minute. Then all of sudden, a man grabbed me by my shirt and pulled me off Tommy. That man was Tommy’s father. He yelled at Tommy and told me to go home.

  I had never been in a fight before. From the looks of it, I didn’t think Tommy had either. We both got in some good hits, but neither one of us were bleeding.

  I looked over and Sarah was still standing there. She saw the whole fight. She smiled and took a couple steps towards me. My heart dropped. She looked right into my eyes. It was like she said thank you without saying a word. She then turned around and ran down the street. I just stared at her until I couldn’t see her anymore. At that moment I didn’t even realize the significance of what had happened. All I knew was I had done something I had never done before and that I was in love with a girl I never said a single word to.

  I didn’t tell anyone what happened. There would have been too much explaining to do. Nonetheless, it was quite an experience.

  I heard that Tommy moved over the summer, but I never heard anything about Sarah. I couldn’t help wondering ab
out her.

  “Are you ready to go?” Carrie yelled from the living room.

  “I’m coming,” I answered.

  Carrie and I walked to the store. My mom left us two dollars each. It was enough to get a soda, candy bar, and a bag of chips.

  We then headed off toward Wenchester Elementary School. Carrie never got as excited as I did when it came to the classroom lists. It was partly that she didn’t like school as much as I did.

  From a distance, I could see Blayne and Timmy at the basketball courts.

  “I’m going to go wait over by the bulletin boards,” Carrie said. Then she took off running.

  I looked at my watch. It was ten minutes to two. I jogged up to the courts where Timmy and Blayne were standing.

  “What’s going on guys?” I asked.

  “Just standing around waiting,” Timmy answered.

  “You know what guys? I think it’s about that time,” Blayne said.

  I really hoped I would get Blayne and Timmy in my class. Every year since kindergarten I had had one or the other in my class. I never had them both at the same time.

  With all this wishing I had been doing, one thing I knew for sure was that I wouldn’t want my sister in my class. We had never been in the same class. I guess the school didn’t want brothers and sisters to be in the same room together. They were probably afraid we would cheat on our homework or something.

  “You guys ready to go?” Blayne asked as he made the ball into the basket.

  “Let’s do it,” I said. As we walked toward the office, we were all silent. Although we were silent, we all knew what each other were thinking.

  We reached the buildings and made a right at the cafeteria, which put us right in front of the office. There were a group of kids including my sister all huddled around the bulletin boards.

  “They’re up,” I said.

  “Yep,” Timmy replied.

  Tanya and Ali were riding up on their bikes. They parked their bikes and walked over to the bulletin boards. They were two of the prettiest girls in school, and they knew it. They were best friends and were inseparable.