“So do I,” Gio chimed in.
“-and I’m telling this maggot to show me his hands. Gio’s got a bead on him through the passenger window, and I’m about a step behind the door.” He took another drink.
Gio noticed the door open and a woman enter the bar. Immediately, he felt a stab of butterflies in his stomach. It was her, the blonde from the other night, the one with the pale blue eyes. She glided in and took a seat in the far corner. He noted with some satisfaction that she was alone.
Gio’s mouth went suddenly dry. He took a sip of his beer. His palms were suddenly sweating and rubbed them on his jeans.
Ridgeway set his glass down and continued his story. “Moron has his hands on the wheel, but now he’s getting confused. I don’t see a gun, but the paper bag has fallen out of his jacket. Money is all over the front seat. He doesn’t know what to do, and he’s not listening to me. I’ve got his door swung open. I’m telling him to get out of the truck. Then he starts reaching inside his jacket.”
Stone shook his head, disbelieving. “Stupid bastard. Why didn’t you shoot him?”
Ridgeway shrugged. “Coulda.”
“But…”
“I cracked him upside the head instead.”
Stone chuckled. “With what? Your gun?”
Ridgeway nodded.
Stone laughed out loud.
“Tore that fake scar right off his face. It was hanging from his cheek.” Ridgeway allowed himself a rare grin. “Hanging right below the new real scar I gave him.”
“That is great,” Stone chuckled. “Mr. Master Shooter turns goddamn Wyatt Earp. Priceless.” He clapped Ridgeway on the shoulder. “You saved that guy’s life, Mark. You’re a bona fide hero. He should be dead.”
“Should be,” Ridgeway repeated.
“Of course,” Stone observed, “now that you saved his life, he’ll probably file a complaint and sue the city.”
Ridgeway’s grin melted. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”
“Probably.”
Ridgeway considered for a moment, then shrugged. “Screw him. Who cares?”
Stone shrugged. “Speaking of complaints, that goddamn Lieutenant Hart called me in today. I got another IA complaint.”
Ridgeway snorted. “Big surprise.”
Stone shot Ridgeway a dark look. “It’s completely unfounded.”
“I’m sure.” The two men paused to take a long draft of beer, then Ridgeway asked, “You smack a guy with your gun or something?”
Both men had a long chuckle.
Gio waved Johnny over. The bartender leaned forward toward Gio. “Yeah?” Gio motioned to the blonde. He didn’t even have to tell the bartender what he wanted to know. Good thing, too, because his throat and mouth were dry again.
Johnny studied her for a moment. Gio could see the computer hard drive behind the bartender’s eyes as it ground through information. Accessing, accessing. Then he turned back to Gio.
“Marilyn. That’s her name.” He kept wiping the bar in front of Gio. “She comes in once in a while, sometimes alone, sometimes she meets a few girlfriends. I think she works near here. Not a groupie, though, Gio.”
Gio nodded his thanks. Without another word, Johnny left to serve another customer.
Stone recounted his meeting with Hart. “I mean, the guy will take something, anything, and blow it up so he can spend twenty minutes lecturing you. What a prick.”
Ridgeway nodded. “What was the complaint for?”
“Some old buzzard I told to move along at that fatal accident we had at Illinois and Perry last week.”
“That one where the high school girl died?”
“Yeah. Her little Toyota Corolla was t-boned by a 4x4. Anyway, people were acting like it was an interactive version of COPS or something, and I was getting tired of being polite about moving them along. This guy musta slowed down and tried to look or something. I don’t even remember him.”
“Hart.” Ridgeway grunted the word like it was a curse and then threw back another slug of his Budweiser. “You hear he pulled Chisolm from the FTO program?”
Stone nodded. “Yeah. I heard Chisolm got so torqued he pulled a gun on him in the office.”
Ridgeway frowned. “C’mon, Jack. You really think Chisolm would pull a gun on the lieutenant?”
Stone stared back at him, blinked and said nothing.
“Okay,” Ridgeway conceded, “but do you think he would still be working here if he did?”
“No. And I think Hart would be six feet under. The prick.”
Johnny put another round of shots in front of them. Ridgeway raised his glass. “I’ll drink to that. “
“Me, too.”
“To hope,” Ridgeway said sarcastically. Both sipped.
“Hey, guys!” came a familiar voice. Janice Koslowski, a forty-one year old radio dispatcher, walked up to the bar and put her arm around Ridgeway’s shoulder. “My hero!” she said, planting a kiss on his cheek. Then, looking at Gio, she reached out and put her other arm around him. “You too, tall, dark and slutty.”
Gio grinned, but glanced toward the blonde. She hadn’t noticed him.
“What are you doing here?” Ridgeway asked her. “Shouldn’t you be asleep?”
“Night off,” Janice told him, pushing back her long brown hair and smiling. “I stopped in to pick up my paycheck and heard the news. Nice job, fellas.”
Ridgeway took a sip from his shot glass. “Yeah, did they tell you we almost got killed?”
Janice looked upset. “What?!”
Ridgeway nodded. “Yeah. Rookie dispatcher completely screwed up on the call. Almost got us killed.”
“How?” Janice demanded. “Who was it? What happened.
“It was terrible,” Ridgeway said. He took another sip from his glass. “Now, if only we’d had a veteran dispatcher. .”
“Oh, nice!” Janice slapped his shoulder hard. “You had me going for a second.”
Ridgeway chuckled. Gio raised his eyebrows in surprise. He hadn’t seen him do that in a while.
Janice shook her head, smiling. “Well, I see one thing hasn’t changed since I went to graveyard. Mark Ridgeway is still a mean S.O.B.”
Ridgeway raised his near-empty shot glass. “At your service, ma’am. Have a drink with me?”
Janice grinned. “Mark, I don’t know. With you, it is never just one.”
“Can’t have just one. It gets lonely in my stomach. Wants company. Gotta send it some of its brothers.”
Janice’s smile didn’t fade. “Okay, mister. I’ll have one.” She motioned to Johnny and pointed at Ridgeway’s glass and gave Johnny one finger.
“It’ll get loh-ohnllyyy…” Ridgeway crooned.
Jack Stone began to sing “One is the loneliest number…”
“Shut up and tell me what really happened,” Janice chuckled.
Gio slipped from the stool and walked toward Marilyn. He heard Janice and Ridgeway pause briefly-probably to watch him go-then Janice asked Ridgeway for all the ‘dirty details.’
Marilyn sat alone, sipping from a small glass. She noticed his approach about two steps away, her eyes inviting but cautious.
What do I say?
“Hello,” she said, her voice friendly.
“Hello,” Gio answered. “Can I, uh, sit with you for a few minutes?”
She paused, considering. Then, “Sure. I’m only planning to stay until I finish this drink, though.”
Gio sat across from her. God, she’s beautiful. He’d only gotten a brief look that first night and his experience taught that imagination generally fills in what you don’t see. Unfortunately, imagination tends to be optimistic and reality often disappointing. Not in her case, though. She looked even lovelier than he remembered.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“Anthony. Giovanni. My friends call me Gio.”
“I’m Marilyn.”
“Nice to meet you.”
Now what I am supposed to say?
Gio wiped his sweaty palms on the front of his jeans. He was afraid to use a line on her, afraid to bullshit with her like he did with all the bunnies that usually came in here. It hit him like a slap up the side of the head when he realized he had little to say without those lines.