"I'm not very hungry, Mom."
"Eat what you can," she said, sitting across from him, the way she had when he was a child.
He shrugged and took a few bites.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"What's that?"
"The trouble you're in. You're my son and I have a right to know."
"We were in a shooting and the Department is taking us to a trial board over it." Because of the way he felt, the food seemed tasteless.
"When you were growing up, I knew you'd turn out to be a policeman. Every time Nick would stop by, you'd be swaggering around like him for days after." Her tone was muted, serious, unlike other times she'd made similar comments to him.
"It'll all blow over," he said to his plate.
"You're in real trouble, aren't you, Jose?"
"You're gonna be late for work, Mom. I'll give you a ride."
"I don't need no goddamn ride," she said angrily. "I need my son to talk to me!"
"Everything's OK, Mom."
" 'Everything's OK,' " she said sarcastically. "Everything's not OK. You're talking to me like a cop talks to someone he meets on the street. Your Uncle Nick was a cop twenty-four hours a day. Your Uncle Nick was your big hero "
"You're talking about the past "
"Nick never gave of himself. He was a cop and he was above that. And now you're just like him. You've grown cold. I can see it in your eyes. Nothing is hidden from a mother." She wiped away a tear, stood up, and moved to the end of the sink. She grabbed a paper towel and blew her nose.
"I'm sorry if I upset you coming here "
"I want you to quit the department. To hell with them. You can find another job. Or go to college and be a lawyer like Howard."
Stepanovich stood and took his plate to the sink. Turning on the faucet, he washed the contents of the plate into the garbage disposal and set the plate on the sink. He checked his wristwatch. "I have to go."
Mrs. Stepanovich, her jaw set, just shook her head.
Neither said a word as he drove her to work. When they arrived, she kissed him lightly on the cheek. "Please think about what I said, Jose."
He stepped off the elevator at the police building. The hallway, usually crowded with gawkers, police gossipers, and informants for various high-ranking officers, was empty.
Stepanovich took in a breath, grasped the door handle, and sauntered into the hearing room. Though the crowd was as large as the day before, Harger wasn't there. Houlihan was standing in the corner of the room, speaking furtively with a couple of sharply dressed detectives. He was sure they were staring at him as he walked to the defense table and joined Arredondo and Black.
"Something's going on," Arredondo said. "The Chief s adjutant has been running in and out of the room."
Black sipped coffee from a styrofoam cup. "My guess is they've come up with a zinger. Maybe Brenda copped out ... or that fuckin' Sparky."
"I think I'm about to get arrested," Stepanovich said under his breath. Black and Arredondo looked at him in astonishment.
The swinging doors from the hallway opened and Howard, with a pile of books on his lap, maneuvered his wheelchair down the short aisle and joined them. His eyes were puffy from drinking and his hair was matted on one side.
As if on cue, Ratliff and the other members of the board entered and took their respective seats. Unlike yesterday, they were carrying neither notebooks nor briefcases. Stepanovich wondered whether Houlihan would handcuff him right in the hearing room or wait until he was out in the hallway.
"This board is called to order," Ratliff said, pulling his swivel chair close to the table. He picked up a plastic pitcher, poured water into a paper cup, and took a sip. From his uniform breast pocket he removed a folded white envelope. He blew into the flap and took out a piece of paper. "Let the record note that the accused are present with counsel."
"This doesn't look good," Howard whispered.
"Per Section 288 of the board of rights manual, in the event an officer submits a resignation subsequent to filing of a complaint but prior to the completion of the board of rights hearing on the charges," Ratliff said as cameras and lights clicked on in the press area, "the chief of police may instruct the board to close the file and adjourn. Due to the resignation of Officer Stepanovich, the Chief has done so."
"The other accused would ask clarification of their status," Howard said loudly and distinctly.
Ratliff nodded. "By special order from the Chief and in no way connected with the allegations, Officers Black and Arredondo are transferred to new assignments as of the next deployment period. This file is now permanently closed and the board is adjourned."
Reporters rushed out the door to the bank of phones in the hallway.
Black leaned close. "You didn't have to "
"Yes, I did," Stepanovich said.
Houlihan came to the table with two transfer forms and set them in front of Black and Arredondo. As Howard gloomily examined the paperwork, Stepanovich stood up, took a deep breath, and walked out.
****
TWENTY-SEVEN
Standing at the door of Gloria's apartment, Stepanovich heard the television inside: a news report concerning the board of rights hearing.
When Gloria opened the door, her face was devoid of makeup, and from the darkness under her eyes, he could tell she'd been crying. She was wearing a fluffy white sweater, tight black pants, and her hair was pulled back sternly. He threw his arms around her.
She pulled away from him and pushed the door closed.
Standing there in what should have been comfortable surroundings, Stepanovich suddenly felt horribly uncomfortable.
"Did you have a nice trip?" he said.
"I feel a lot better now have you eaten?"
"I'm starving."
She moved past him into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator, and took out a package of corn tortillas, hamburger meat, and a bowl of something that looked like refried beans. Without saying a word, she poured oil into a pan and began frying the meat.
Stepanovich moved to the kitchen table and sat down. "I'm sorry about everything."
Gloria opened the refrigerator again and took out a can of beer. Popping the cap, she set it on the table in front of him and returned to the stove. "I heard about you on the news.. I'm sorry you had to resign."
"I'm leaving L.A. and I want you to go with me, Gloria. My cousin Jack Mornarich is the mayor of Glide, Oregon, and he can get me on the sheriff's department there. And he said they have a nursing shortage at the hospital in town."
She avoided looking at him.
"Gloria, I love you and I always will. I want you to be my wife."
The meat was done. Without a word she heated a couple of tortillas, scooped on the fried meat, and sprinkled a handful of grated cheese, tomato, and shredded lettuce. She turned off the burners and brought the plate to the table.
"Did you hear what I said?"
"That night you waited for me outside the hospital," she said, setting the plate down in front of him. "After I came home, I thought about you all night. I was infatuated."
"I felt the same way-"
"That isn't something I'm used to," she said, sitting across from him. "I've been working in hospitals since I was eighteen years old. I've seen so much I've forgotten how to feel some things, I guess." She folded her hands in front of her. "Go ahead and eat."
Though he still felt uneasy, Stepanovich bit into the taco.
"We could have been born somewhere else," she said. "Have you ever thought about that? That we could have been born anyone, anywhere in the world except East L.A.?"
"But we weren't," he said, picking up the beer.
"You used me to help you trap the White Fence homeboys."
"That's over now." He took a big gulp and set the can down. He wanted to put his arms around her, to feel the softness of her sweater, of her arms holding him.
"You had to get even for what happened to Fordyce," Gloria said. There was a tear in t
he corner of her left eye.
"None of that has anything to do with you and me." He reached out to take her hand. She left the table and moved to the sink.
"Gloria, you and I didn't make it like this. It's just the way it is."
"You're right. East L.A. was divided into gang territories generations ago, and maybe it will always be divided: groups fighting one another. But I thought you and I were more important than the gangs, than the neighborhood than the police department. I was wrong."
Stepanovich's mouth suddenly felt dry. "I'm truly sorry for what happened."
"There's nothing to apologize for. We can't help the way we are."
"I love you, Gloria."
"And I love you. But that doesn't change the fact that we're living in different worlds. I want to stop people from killing one another. Jesus, why should there be a hundred beds at the hospital just for people with bullet wounds?"
"Ask the gangbangers. They're the ones who are killing people."
"What do you mean, 'they'?"
"You don't understand."
"Oh yes I do, Joe. I'm the one who watches kids die. I'm still living and working in the barrio, but I'm not part of it like you are. Your life is dedicated to more pay backs, more turf battles, more death."
"I understand you being upset "
Gloria used a knuckle to wipe away her tears. "Joe, I'm not going to go away with you."
Stepanovich shoved his plate slowly away and came to his feet. His temples were throbbing. "You sit me down and feed me and then tell me to get lost. I don't get it."
"When you shot that man, there was a look in your eye I'll never forget "
"But he would have killed you!" he shouted.
She turned away and he grabbed her arm. "I can't help who I am, Gloria. But I love you."
"You love revenge. You love your surrogate family at the Rumor Control Bar," she cried. "You've become a gangbanger."
"I need you."
"Not more than you need your homeboys," she said coldly.
Stepanovich reached out to take her in his arms, but she pulled away.
"I'm as tough as you are, vato, " Gloria said. Covering her face with her hands, she hurried to the bedroom. Without turning around, she slammed the door behind her.
Stepanovich, feeling tears in his throat, followed her, but stopped himself at the bedroom door. "If you change your mind, you know where to find me," he said loudly. Overcoming an urge to punch walls and tear apart her furniture, he walked to the door, looked back one more time and left.
Downstairs, as he unlocked the door of his car, he looked up. Though he couldn't see anything through the sheer drapes covering the window of Gloria's bedroom, he imagined her watching him.
****
TWENTY-EIGHT
Assisted by Arredondo and Black, who looked as hungover as he'd ever seen them, Stepanovich fit what he owned into two suitcases and three cardboard boxes and carried them to a U-haul truck he'd rented at a police discount from the equipment rental service down the street from Sparky's tow yard.
With his mattress and box springs and the remainder of his kitchen supplies shoved into the bed of the truck, he wrote a note informing the apartment manager he was leaving and that if she was able to rent the apartment to someone else by the time his rent was up at the end of the month, she could send the refund to him care of Jack Mornarich in Glide.
With the truck loaded, Stepanovich walked across the street and bought two six packs of Coors. Back at the truck, he, Black and Arredondo moved int6 the shade furnished by the truck and popped open beer cans.
Arredondo tipped a can back and drank fully half of it. "They transferred me to the Drug Abuse Resistance Program," he said, restraining a belch. "I'll be assigned in a high school to teach the kiddies not to shoot dope. The school I'm going to has twenty single teachers and eleven of them are supposed to fuck like bunnies."
Black leaned against the truck. "As of midnight tonight, I'm assigned back to Wilshire morning watch. If I'm lucky, I won't have to see daylight until I retire. "
"You guys'll have to come up to Glide. We can go fishing."
"Sounds real good," Black said.
"You say the word, homes."
As they were finishing their beers, Brenda pulled up to the curb up in her Mazda. A large sticker on the front bumper read: "SHIT HAPPENS." As she gave Stepanovich a hug, her seashell halter-top poked him in the chest. "I wish you all the best, Joe."
"Thanks, Brenda."
"C'mon, honey," she said to Black.
Black shoved his empty beer can into a brown paper sack on the bed of the truck. He shook hands with Stepanovich. "You're as solid a cop as I've ever met," he said. "You take care, now."
Black and Brenda climbed in the Mazda. Black started the engine. As they drove off, they were sitting close together and her arm was around him.
Arredondo threw his arms around Stepanovich in an abrazo.
"Good luck with those teachers, Raul."
"I don't need any luck, homes."
"Of course not."
Arredondo swaggered across the street to his Chevrolet. He tooted the horn as he drove off.
On the way out of town, Stepanovich stopped by the Fordyce residence to say good-bye. The couple seemed to be adjusting to their loss as well as could be expected and at one point even discussed taking a train to Kansas City for a family reunion.
Stepanovich followed Interstate Highway 5 through Hollywood and the San Fernando Valley and finally out of Los Angeles and into the Tehachapi Mountains. The sun was setting as he steered the curving Tejon Pass past the lonely truck stops of Castaic, Gorman, and Lebec.
Adjusting the radio volume to drown out thoughts of Gloria, he changed gears and steered down a long grade leading to Kern County. At the base of the mountains, the highway straightened to a band stretching due north all the way to San Francisco. With the ridge route behind him, Stepanovich stepped heavily on the gas pedal and accelerated into the darkness.
Late that night he was still on the road.
****
About the Author
GERALD PETIEVICH is a former U.S. Secret Service Agent. His brother was awarded a Los Angeles Police Department Star of Valor for his actions in a shootout with gang members. Mr. Petievich numbers among his novels To Live and Die in L.A., Boiling Point (published as Money Men) and The Sentinel, all of which were made into major motion pictures His other novels include Shakedown, To Die in Beverly Hills, One-Shot Deal, Paramour and The Quality of the Informant.
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