“No I didn’t,” Frank snapped.
“What you do in the privacy of your own home is your business, Frank,” the Chief said. “Anyway, nice work coming out so fast to that call. If you two keep up the good work, I might be able to make room for two detectives.”
“Does that mean I can get a fancy gold shield too? Vic keeps picking on me because I don’t have one.”
The Chief stuck out his bottom lip as he thought about it, looking up at the ceiling tiles like the answer might be written there. “I’ll think about it.”
Vic and Frank walked out of the Chief’s office toward the stairs, grinning at one another, with the sound of flip-flops smacking the ceramic tile with every step.
It was the same episode of the same cartoon for the fifth time in a row. Penelope liked nothing better than watching the same thing over and over. Vic didn’t mind. He’d read that children learn from repetition. “Turn it on again for your sister?” he said to Jason.
Jason was clicking through a webpage on Vic’s laptop, sounding bored when he said, “Again?”
Vic went into the kitchen and opened his refrigerator, taking a bottle of Miller Lite out of its six-pack carton. “You’re playing on the computer, what’s the difference?”
He cracked it and drank half the bottle in one easy swallow. It was cold as ice and went down smooth. He grabbed two more and went back into the living room, plopping down next to Penelope as Jason turned the show back on.
“Can we play a board game?” Penelope said.
He put his arm around her and nodded, “As soon as this is over. Let’s just sit here for a few minutes and when it’s done, we’ll shut the TV and the computer off and play anything you want.”
Penelope laid her head against him as he stroked her hair, now finding the stupid cartoon somewhat pleasant. Everything settled inside of him and resolved itself, like sediment floating to the bottom of a canister. Vic finished the second bottle and leaned his head back against the couch. He closed his eyes and soon heard the sounds of snoring coming from his open mouth. Everything was all right, though. Everything was good.
The sound of Jason’s voice woke him up. He opened his eyes to see his son sitting on the coffee table, hunched over as he talked on the phone. Penelope’s head was down in his lap and she was asleep. Jason had covered her up with a blanket and taken off her shoes. “I can’t put him on, Mom. He’s sleeping.”
“Give me the phone,” Vic said.
Jason’s head popped up and he handed Vic the phone. “What’s up?” Vic said.
“You fell asleep? You’re supposed to be watching them. It’s only nine o’clock at night.”
“We were sitting on the couch watching TV and I closed my eyes. What’s the big deal?”
“Were you drinking?”
Vic looked at the bottles on the coffee table and then at his son. Jason shook his head silently and Vic said, “No. I’m just tired from work.”
“Put Jason on the phone.”
Vic wiggled out from underneath Penelope’s head and snapped his fingers at Jason, directing him to the bathroom. “I can’t. He just went into the bathroom to get freshened up for bed.”
“Make sure he calls me the second he gets out.”
“Okay. How are you doing?”
“Tuition for her pre-school is due. I need a check from you when you drop them off in the morning.”
“I don’t have it right now.”
“When will you have it by?”
“When we get our overtime check, I guess. Why can’t you pay for it out of the money I give you every week? Why does the three hundred dollars I fork over every paycheck not cover anything they need?”
“Because I am a single-mother and have no help, Vic. Thanks to you I have no help.”
Vic moved into the kitchen, keeping his hand cupped over the phone to muffle his voice. “You aren’t a single mother. That’s asinine. I have them three days a week and give you more money than I take home every paycheck. Is that what you tell people? That you’re a single-mom with no help?”
“Well it’s true,” she said.
“It is not fucking true. Listen to me—”
“Don’t curse at me! And don’t talk to me that way in front of my children!”
“I’m not in front of the children! Listen to me!” He continued to talk but quickly realized that she’d hung up the phone. He ended the call and put the phone down, fighting the temptation to text her: FUCK YOU, YOU FUCKING CUNT. He typed it into his phone but did not send it. It felt better just to write it.
Jason was standing in front of the bathroom mirror, brushing his teeth. Vic leaned up against the bathroom door and said, “Thanks. You know how she gets. Every little thing just… you know how she gets.”
“No problem,” the boy said.
“Listen, I’ll put Penelope to bed and how about you and me watch a movie?”
“I kind of wanted to finish my game, Dad.”
“Oh. Okay. That sounds good,” Vic said. He followed his son out of the bathroom and watched him sit down in front of the computer again, quickly immersing himself in the bright screen and theatrical sound effects.
Vic lifted Penelope and put her back in his lap. He reached for another beer and opened it. It was warm. He drank it anyway.
Frank finished his fourth beer and sat back, clutching his stomach. The aspirin was not mixing well with the Miller Lite. His whole body tingled and although his knee ached, he was only dully aware of its mild throb. He’d already ground up the remaining Percocet in the garbage disposal. Somewhere, a hundred miles downstream, a little old lady is going to drink a glass of tap water and be high as a kite. Oh well, he thought.
His phone rang. Frank picked it up and looked at the numbers in confusion. “Hello?”
“Hey, Frankie. You know who this is?”
Frank did. “Special Agent Dolos?”
“Just call me Dez. What are you doing?”
“Watching TV and drinking beer. We had kind of a crazy day after the meeting. There was this dead guy—”
“Uh-huh. Can you talk?”
Frank put down his beer and said, “Yeah. What’s up?”
“Vic was bullshitting me earlier today. Are you going to bullshit me too?”
“No, of course not.”
“There’s room in our operation for good people, Frank. Especially people who have a family history of doing the right thing, you know what I’m saying?”
Frank paused. “Kind of, I guess.”
“Good. Because we’re all big fans of your old man’s work. It’s the kind of thing that’s missing from police work today. The kind of thing it takes certain people to understand. I need a guy like you out in the boonies, Frank. I’ll be honest with you, I’m not sure about Vic anymore.”
“I know he can be hard to take sometimes, but he’s a good guy.”
“Everybody that works with me makes a lot of money, Frank. They all go on to exclusive assignments that take them far away from the shitholes like where you work now. Stick with me, and you can go places.”
“Okay,” Frank said.
“What’s the real reason you guys didn’t sign that CI up yet?”
Frank took a long sip of beer. “I have no idea. Vic talked to him without me there.”
“Really?”
“Honest to God.”
“All right. Listen, I need that CI flipped. I need you to make sure we get him one way or another. If Vic can’t make it happen, I want you to find a way for me to get in touch with him, understand? We have resources you guys could never dream of.”
“I wouldn’t doubt it,” Frank said.
“Say hello to your old man for me. Let him know his friends down here haven’t forgotten him. If he ever needs anything, you make sure he has my number.”