Derry, Northern Ireland

Derry, Northern Ireland
A book I'm working on is set in this town.

Sunday, May 27, 2012

More of OT

I figure this is about midway into the story, after Jake's learned something he didn't want to know.


I pulled out my cell phone and quickly dialed Tone’s number, hoping to God he’d be in one of his moods and wouldn’t answer, then I stopped on Magdalena. The cop pulled up behind me, his lights still flashing, his headlights on high and blasting straight into my mirrors. He got out and started for me, but I couldn’t really make out what he looked like. Then I noticed another cop exiting the passenger side. Okay...that meant more than just a traffic stop.

Fine. I can be Joe Cool, when I need to.

Of course, that’s when Sola Rosa’s “Humanise” stared on the stereo. I almost chuckled at how obvious it was.

The cop on the driver’s side walked up to me, carefully, his hand sort of twitching to go for his pistol. I did not move. He stopped by the back door, so I had to twist around to even see a little of him.

“Driver’s license and registration.”

“It’s a rental,” I said.

“Rental agreement.”

I nodded and very carefully pulled my Texas driver’s license from my wallet; I’d yanked that from my pocket the second the lights had appeared in my rear-view mirror. And for the one and hopefully only time in my life, I was glad I hadn’t had a chance to shift to a Danish license, yet. I handed it over, saying, “The agreement’s in the glove compartment. Is it okay if I get it?”

“No,” was the gruff reply. “Unlock the doors. Hey, Rob, come get the rental agreement from this guy’s glove box.”

In case he’s got a gun? What bullshit. I heard him walk over and open the door.

I kept looking forward as I said, “I don’t understand; what’s the problem?”

“You ran a stop sign, back there.”

Which was bullshit. There’d been nothing but traffic signals since I’d left Connie’s office. But I didn’t argue. Just let him give me the ticket and I’d fight it in court, if that was his intent.

“Shit, Rob, this fag’s from Texas.”

Okay...that was NOT his intent. This wasn’t gonna be a nice event, because the only way he’d say something like that is if his mike and the camera in the patrol car were off. Why the fuck’re cops like that? Always having to show just how fucking stupid they are?

“Rented the car at LAX,” said Rob, his voice hard and snotty. Now I didn’t need to see him to know he was an asshole.

“What’s a cocksucker like you doin’ in California?”

I relaxed. This was going to be easy. “I came to see my uncle.”

“No shit? How much is he paying you?”

“Must be a cheap fuck,” Rob sneered. “Couldn’t he spring for a decent ride?”

I smiled. “Wow, Rob, you must be the cop he talked about.”

“What the fuck’re you talking about, bitch?” Rob was not happy.

“Hey, dude,” I said, still not moving. “You can supplement your income any way you want; I don’t care. If you got it, use it.”

The cop behind me suddenly yanked the door out and screeched, “Get out! Out and on the ground, face down! Right now! Now!”

I started to do it when he grabbed me and slung me to the asphalt. I grabbed his belt and he came down with me, slamming his face against the edge of the door. By the time Rob’d scrambled around from the other side of the car, his pistol out, I was lying flat, my hands and legs stretched out, not moving an inch.

“What the fuck, Chet!?!” was all he could think to say.

“The fucker grabbed me,” Chet snarled.

“What’re you talking about?” I yelled, trying to add some fear to my voice. “I got out of the car and you yanked at me, then you slipped. Shit, is it my fault you can’t stand up straight?”

“Motherfucking cocksuking faggot son-of-a-bitch!” Chet bolted to his feet and kicked me in the side.

It hurt, but I really played it up with a scream and howl and cry of, “What’re you doing?! What’d I do?!”

“I’m gonna cut your fuckin’ balls off, motherfucker!”

He kicked me, again, and I coughed and choked, and didn’t need to play that one up, at all. I think he cracked a rib. He was about to kick me again, and this time I knew I’d have to fight back or stand for a nasty beating, but Rob jumped over me and shoved Chet back.

“Hey, hey, HEY!” Rob growled.

“What the fuck -- ?!” Then his voice cut off. I heard some rustling behind me, then my phone was shoved in front of my face and Chet was growling, “You were on the phone?” I let all the fake crap leave my voice and I growled, “To my boyfriend. Got his answering machine. This is gonna be some message he finds. Officer Chet.”

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