13. Thirteen
Thirteen
D ante
Getting ready for Cooper’s funeral, I could hear Zak whistling as he came down the steps. It was nice to see at least one of us was in a good mood. My father had been brought into lockup again the prior night.
I was ten years old when Mom was diagnosed with terminal cancer. As the pain became more than even a strong woman like her could handle, the oncologist prescribed pain killers. Percocet and Darvocet at first. But as the tumors became more aggressive, he switched her to oxycodone and eventually fentanyl.
When she passed, it was almost a relief. Despite a nightstand covered in prescription bottles, her last days had been filled with agonizing pain, because she rarely took the drugs her doctor prescribed. You see, Mom never believed she was going to die. Her faith was strong, and she was sure God would send down a miracle. And as she put it, ‘When that angel shows up to heal me, I don’t want to be stoned on my ass. ’ The angel never came.
My father did not have Mom's faith or strength of character. After she passed, he used the pills she left behind to dull his own pain. When they ran out, he began buying drugs on the street.
As his addiction grew, so did the number of days he was absent from work. Eventually, Mr. Jergensen had no choice but to let him go. That was when he started stealing to finance his habit. A neighbor awoke one night to find him sneaking out a window with her laptop under his arm and called the police.
It was his first time in jail and my first experience with the foster care system. Not the last for either of us. Every time he was released, it was the same promises—he was going to get clean and find a new job. I was young, na?ve, and wanted to believe him.
Somewhere in my late teens, I realized he was weak and would never change. If I let him, my father would disappoint me until the day he died. I broke off all contact with him and have never regretted my decision.
The whistling stopped and Zak stuck his head into my room. “You look so handsome in your dress uniform,” he said, trying to cheer me up. “LCSD should use you in all of their recruiting ads.”
“Thanks, I’ll mention it to the lieutenant.”
“I can still go with you,” he offered. “It would only take me a minute to change.”
“Thanks, but it’s not necessary. I'll be seated with the other pallbearers, and you didn't really know Coop or his family that well.” I checked my jacket pocket to make sure I had the white gloves. “Enjoy your day off. God knows neither of us gets enough of them.”
“Okay. Just know that Oliver and I are here if you need us.” The dog barked and wagged his tail, as he did anytime he heard his name.
“Quiet, you mutt,” I growled at him, trying to suppress a smile. “I never asked about your date. How did it go? Did you get laid?”
“A gentleman never tells,” he said. But his red cheeks told me everything I needed to know.
“Good for you.” I meant it. I was happy for him. And a bit jealous. “Are you going to see her again?”
“I'm taking her up to Marina del Mar next week.”
“Marina del Mar? Oh, please tell me you're not taking her on that fucking boat ride. I can't believe I ever let you talk me into that." It was the longest two and a half hours of my life.
Back in the nineties, some big shot attorney had found the boat they used in The African Queen rotting away in some field . Spent a small fortune having it restored. Now his family gives tourists rides up and down the canal on it. I had let Zak talk me into checking it out once. The boiler powered engine made for a hot, noisy ride. Would not recommend.
“She is a huge fan of the movie. Look at the text she sent me.” I was adjusting my tie and told him to just read it to me. “‘I found the perfect umbrella for our cruise in the secondhand store this afternoon. Going to stop at Publix after work for a bottle of Gordon’s gin. Can’t wait!’”
“Did you tell her you don’t drink?”
“The gin’s not for drinking.” He gave out a dramatic sigh. “Don’t you remember the scene where Rose pours Charlie’s booze into the river?” I stared back at him, blank eyed, and shrugged. Zak gave an exasperated huff.
“It’s not my thing, but she sounds perfect for you.”
“She is. But there’s a problem.” He brushed a stray hair off my lapel and I caught a whiff of his warm, slightly spicy scent. “She's seeing someone else and wants to keep things casual between us.”
“Ouch.” I tried not to smile. “So I guess if you wanted to fuck someone else, she would be okay with it, then?”
“I guess, but she’s the only person I’m seeing, so it doesn’t matter.”
“A good-looking guy like you wouldn’t have much trouble finding someone to hook-up with. Maybe your handsome roommate?” I suggested with a wink.
“Not now, Dante. I really like this woman, and don’t feel like joking about it.”
I should have taken him in my arms right then. Made him see I was not joking. That I had genuine feelings for him. But you can't make someone love you. I turned away so he wouldn't see the hurt in my eyes. “What are you going to do?”
“The only thing I can,” he said. “Keep seeing her, hope she eventually falls in love with me, and dumps the other guy.”
I felt his pain. Could there be a greater hurt than to love someone and know they had feelings for another? I told him I hoped his plan worked before leaving for the funeral.
Growing up with a father who's both a drug addict and a petty criminal taught me I could trust no one. When a parent, the one person in the world you should be able to count on, continually lets you down, you eventually learn to keep your emotions hidden. It was a lesson I had learned well, and one that kept me from opening up with Zak about my feelings for him.
When we first met, I believed that despite his protests to the contrary, like me, he was bisexual. I can't describe how I knew exactly. Just that when we were alone, he gave off a certain vibe.
Overtime, I had convinced myself he felt the same way for me as I did for him. That he was just conflicted about his sexuality and once he accepted his true self, we could be a couple. But now he was hung up on this woman.
I had two choices. I could follow Zak’s example and hope eventually he saw how right we were for each other; or I could admit it was time to move on.
God knows I had tried. Zak understood me better than anyone and was a great friend. But I was not a man who could be happy in a platonic relationship. Without a physical connection, that was all there would ever be between Zak and me.
As I pulled onto Knights Key Boulevard, I thought about Morgan Lewis. Perhaps the best way to get Zak out of my head was to spend more time with the beautiful doctor. Although I generally prefer men, she was an interesting option.
Not that I viewed her as a consolation prize. She was intelligent, independent, and let’s not forget how incredible she was in the sack. Having witnessed the compassion and warmth, she showed her patients; it wasn’t difficult to imagine what my life could be like with her in it. But she had been very upfront about how she felt about love, which should have been a red flag. But how boring would life be if you didn’t take a risk occasionally?
Nothing draws a crowd like a cop’s funeral, and St. Brendan was standing room only. I did not expect Morgan to be in attendance. After all, she had only been Coop’s doctor for a few hours. But as the department chaplain gave his eulogy, I spotted her standing at the rear of the church. Her black dress showed little skin and was perfectly suitable for the somber occasion. But even a flour sack could not hide her luscious curves. For a moment, I forgot where I was, and almost got out of my seat to approach her. After the priest gave the benediction, we carried the flag-draped casket to the hearse.
I caught up with her just as she was getting into her car. “Hello Dante. I hope you don't mind me showing up like this. When I woke up this morning, it felt important I be here.”
“Not at all. I am sure Patti appreciates it. Are you going to the cemetery? We could ride together.”
“I wish I could, but I have to be at the hospital by noon.” She put a hand on my arm. “I would like to see you again, though.”
“How about Wednesday?” I asked.
“I have plans on Wednesday. But I’m free on Thursday?”
“See you at your place then, Say, around one o’clock?”
“Perfect.” She kissed me and purred, “I am looking forward to it.”
The woman had an effect on me that was hard to ignore. As I made my way to the car, I hoped no one noticed the tightening of my trousers.
I was looking forward to hooking up with Morgan again, but according to Zak, women expected you to take them somewhere first. So I planned what I considered to be the perfect date.
My optimism lasted as long as it took for me to pull into the parking lot of Paradise Fishing Lodge. Before I was even off the bike, the door to room 104 burst open and Morgan popped her head out. “Absolutely not. No way in hell. I'm not getting on that thing.”
“You're not being a very good girl.” I smirked.
“Don’t even try. That stuff only works when we're in bed.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe you thought picking me up on a motorcycle was a reasonable thing to do. I see people come into the ER, seriously injured by those things, every week.”
“Fine.” I had clearly underestimated how serious her concerns about safety were. “Give me twenty minutes. I'll go home and get the Mustang.”
“V-8 convertible I suppose.” I nodded, and she shook her head again. “Never mind, I'll drive. My Civic has a five star safety rating.”
“Are you sure? It's a bit of a way to where we’re going.” She tensed and asked where. But when I told her up north, she relaxed again.
“That’s fine. I get terrific gas mileage. Come on in while I finish getting ready. Help yourself if you want something to drink.”
We had gone maybe thirty miles when she turned down the radio. “You’re an honorable man, Dante, so I want to be honest with you. I'm seeing someone else.”
I said nothing for a long time. Why had she agreed to go out with me if she was seeing somebody else? Recalling what Zak told me about the woman he was dating, I wondered if all women now considered monogamy an outdated concept. “I’m not sure I’m comfortable being your side piece.”
She sighed. “I understand you're upset, but there's no need to be rude about it. You’re not a side piece, because there's no main piece.”
“Are your needs so great that I can not satisfy them by myself?”
“No Dante, my libido is perfectly normal, and you are a wonderful lover. But you are more than simply great sex. You take the responsibilities of your job seriously. And beneath that gruff exterior, you are a very compassionate man. I could see myself developing feelings for you. But as I have already explained, I can not and will not allow that to happen.”
“This might sound weird, but I hope you can understand my logic.” I turned to face her, so she would know she had my full attention. “I figure it would be difficult for me to fall in love with you if I am seeing someone else.”
“You’re right. That does sound fucked up. Do you have feelings for this other guy, too?”
“I do, but I can no more fall in love with him than I can with you. If you can’t deal with that or want more than I can give, I will understand if you don’t want to see me anymore.”
“Who is he?” I asked.
She shook her head. “I can’t imagine any good coming from you having that information.”
“You’re probably right.” It was clear she had no intentions of telling me who the other guy was, so I let it drop. “I guess I just have one other question. Do I get to fuck other people too?”
Her expression faltered, and I could tell she had not thought about it before. She quickly composed herself and feigned a smile. “Of course. As my grandmother used to say, ‘what’s good for the goose is good for the gander.’’’
I was still salty that she wouldn’t tell me who the other man was. So when I saw the look in her eyes as we made our way down Tanner Sound Road, I may have taken a little too much enjoyment in her discomfort.
It’s a whole different world back there. Ten minutes earlier, the streets were lined with shopping plazas, restaurants, and tourist traps. But as they faded in the rearview mirror, the only signs of life were overgrown driveways, with chains strung across them and signs warning trespassers they would be shot on sight.
“What kind of people live around here?”
“Let’s just say if we breakdown, it would be safer to take our chances with the gators than to go knocking on someone’s door. They don’t like strangers very much.”
“Gee, you really know how to make a girl feel safe.” She rolled up her window. But it wasn't until she saw the creature at the side of the road that she really got nervous. “What the fuck is that?”
“Don't tell me you've never seen an iguana before.”
“Not like that, I haven't. It must be seven feet long.”
I clocked it more at eight, but didn't argue the point because I could tell she was already scared. “They can grow pretty big. Especially when there is plenty of food for them to eat.”
“Yeah, like the bodies of lost tourists.” I laughed and told her it was just a couple more miles to the restaurant. “How did you ever find this place?”
I explained that when I first joined the sheriff’s office; I was assigned to the Northern Region and one day I responded to a 911 call at Swamp Jax.
“Let me guess, a triple homicide.”
“No,” I chuckled.” “Robbery. The suspect was the one who called it in. A group of bikers had taken his gun and beat the shit out of him. When I arrived, they were threatening to feed him to the gators.”
“Lovely. And we are going there, why exactly?”
“Best cheeseburgers in the state.” I promised her. “But don’t fill up on fries. My friend is taking us parasailing later.”
“My god, isn’t your job dangerous enough? Does everything in your life have to revolve around finding new ways you could die?”
“What do you mean?” I honestly didn't know what she was talking about.
“Everything about you is dangerous, Dante. The bike, the fast car.” She had pulled into the parking lot, but kept talking. “And if we survive lunch at this biker bar without getting shot, then you want to drag me behind a boat while suspended fifty feet over the ocean, by nothing more than a piece of nylon fabric?”
“First off, I'm a very skilled driver. I've never had a ticket, let alone an accident.” I ticked off the points on my fingers. “Second, Jax is not a biker bar. At least not anymore. Two guys from Homestead PD bought it when they retired and turned it into a family restaurant. A lot of cops frequent it. So trust me, there is no place in The Keys where you would be safer. And, three, as for parasailing, Blue Water Tours has one of the best safety records of any attraction in all of Florida.”
“Maybe I overreacted,” she smiled. “My mother tells me I worry too much.”
“I don't think you understand, doc. I like you a great deal and would do nothing that would ever hurt you.”
She kissed me on the cheek, and then said, “Let’s go see if these burgers are as good as you claim.”