All Acts Of Pleasure: A Rowan Gant Investigation (14 page)

“Keep it,” Storm told him and then quipped,
“Buy yourself somethin’ nice.”

“Yeah, funny. Thanks.”

“Not a problem. Catch ya’ later.”

“Not if I’m careful.”

“Uh-huh. Who’s funny now?” Ben chuckled,
reaching out and grabbing the bag of sandwiches. “Later.”

“Yeah, later.”

I immediately shifted in my seat, trying to
remain inconspicuous but not actually look like I was hiding. The
stool directly next to me on my right was currently empty, which
would give him a clear view of me when he turned this way to leave.
The seat on my left, however, was filled with a uniform clad
patron, and I was concerned that too much fidgeting would just
attract unwanted attention from him. If that happened then I
definitely wouldn’t have a chance of going unnoticed.

Of course, it didn’t help at all that my
anger was steadily rising, effectively nudging the pragmatic
approach to the situation off into the wings. If Ben didn’t get out
of here soon, I wasn’t going to be hiding; I was going to be up in
his face.

I shut my eyes and kept them squeezed tight
as I endeavored to slowly breathe my way through this, grounding
and centering my energy in order to keep calm. Surprisingly, the
bid to maintain control actually seemed to be working, and I could
feel my shoulders start to relax as I continued the practiced
breaths, in through my nose and out through my mouth, all the while
visualizing a solid connection with the earth.

Hopefully, I only needed to keep this up for
another minute or so and it would all be moot. Once he was gone I
was certain the surge of negative emotions would subside. I waited,
focusing on my breathing as I listened for the door. The rattle of
the bell finally hit my ears just as I was letting a slow stream of
air out between my lips. I was actually beginning to think I might
make it through this without incident. Of course, it was at right
about that moment when I was blindsided.

I really should have felt him standing behind
me. Any other time I’m sure I would have, but I suppose I was too
busy concentrating on not flying off the stool and attempting to
actually land the punch he’d avoided earlier in the day.

Either way, I knew my luck was depleted the
moment I heard his voice coming at me from just over my right
shoulder.

“What’re ya’ doin’ down here, white man?” Ben
asked, a jumbled mix of concern, remorse, and even trepidation
wrapped tightly about the words.

“Waiting,” I returned without looking up. I
held my voice even, but there was no mistaking the disdain in my
tone.

“Mind if I sit here for a minute?”

“Free country.” I took a sip of my coffee and
struggled to contain myself as I felt my face flush with heated
anger.

There was a thick tension between us as he
placed the sack onto the counter then dropped his frame onto the
stool and leaned forward on crossed arms. I could feel my heart
pounding in my chest, and the growing thump reverberated in my ears
amidst the rush of blood. I actually started counting the beats as
we sat there, making it almost to fifty before he elected to speak
again.

“You really shoulda stayed at home, Row,” he
offered.

While my brain was debating whether or not to
reply, my mouth disassociated itself from the process and ran off
on its own. “Your guys didn’t exactly leave me much of a place to
stay.”

“Yeah…” he grunted then paused a moment. “I
heard a rumor. Sorry. They don’t usually do that.”

“Yeah, I know. Been there, got a t-shirt.
Remember?”

“Yeah.”

“So I guess I just get to be the lucky one
then, huh?”

“I have a feelin’ it was a request from on
high.”

“I pretty much figured that out too. Perfect
opportunity to screw with the Witch, huh?”

“Somethin’ like that.”

“Seems like a pretty popular pastime for you
cops today.”

He purposely avoided replying to the jibe,
asking instead, “You need a hand cleanin’ up?”

“If you’re the one offering, then no.”

“Actually, I can’t…But, maybe I could
get…”

I interrupted him. “Oh yeah, I forgot. Seems
you can’t do much of anything these days.”

He sighed. “I’m not happy ‘bout this,
Row.”

“Funny. Doesn’t seem to have affected your
appetite.”

“Stop bein’ such an asshole, Rowan,” he
returned. “It just so happens the Rueben’s for Firehair, an’ the
chicken salad’s for your mouthpiece. And they ain’t on the
department’s dime either.”

“Am I supposed to say thank you or
something?” I made a show of reaching for my wallet. “Or do you
just want the cash?”

“No. An’ put your fuckin’ wallet away…I just
thought ya’ should know I’m tryin’ ta’ take care of Firehair best I
can.”

“Like when you cuffed her?”

“I can’t have this conversation with ya’
right now.”

“Big surprise.”

He huffed out a heavy sigh and then paused
for a moment before shifting in the seat and picking up the bag. “I
better get these back over there before they get cold.”

“You do that,” I chided, and as usual I
couldn’t leave well enough alone, so I quickly added, “When you
placed the order, I sure hope you remembered to ask for plenty of
arsenic. You wouldn’t want to miss a chance to poison her too.”

“All right! Fuckit!” Ben spat, dropping the
sandwiches and slamming his fist down hard on the counter.

Pushing back, he stood up quickly. I looked
over out of reflex and saw him reach to his belt. With a tug he
pulled his gold shield from it and then slapped it onto the counter
next to the sack of food. In another quick motion, he shoved his
hand beneath the folds of his jacket. I heard a quick snap, and a
moment later he laid his Beretta alongside the badge and
sandwiches.

He was attracting attention from plenty of
others, and I started mutely chastising myself for allowing my
mouth to countermand my brain.

Ben shot a quick glance to the side and
shoved the items toward another cop as he barked, “Watch these for
me, willya, Anderson?”

“There a problem?” the uniformed officer
asked, starting up from his seat, as were several of the others who
were within earshot.

“No,” Ben snapped loudly enough for all to
hear as he grabbed me by the collar and yanked me backwards from
the stool, causing me to spill coffee across the counter. “I just
gotta go finish somethin’.”

“Hey!” I yelped. “What the hell are…”

“Shut up!” he ordered, whipping me around
like I was nothing then shoving me toward the door.

“Yo, Storm, don’t kill ‘im,” one of the cops
shouted across the diner, punctuating the comment with a laugh.
“Way too much paperwork.”

“Hey,” another added. “At least the meat
house is right across the street. Won’t have far to go to drop ‘im
off.”

I knew from personal experience, the “meat
house” he was referring to was the medical examiner’s office that
sat immediately next door to police headquarters.

“You want me to call the paramedics for him?”
yet another officer quipped.

“Everybody just stay put,” he ordered again.
“This’s personal.”

“Goddammit, Ben!” I was growling as I
continued my futile attempt to twist out of his grasp.

“I said shut up!” he shot back, shoving me
through the now open door and out onto the sidewalk.

With a rough yank he guided me around the
side of the building, pushing me along as we went.

“What the hell are you doing?!” I demanded,
but my words seemed to fall on purposely-deaf ears.

As we rounded the corner, he gave me a final
hard shove, sending me stumbling into the side of a dumpster. Free
of his grasp, I wheeled around to face him, rage continuing to
surge through me.

“Take your coat off,” he ordered as he
stripped out of his own and tossed it into a heap against the
building.

“You’re kidding,” I snipped. “You’re not
happy with just fucking my wife over. Now you want to kick my ass
too?”

“Take your coat off,” he repeated, ignoring
my question.

“What for?” I demanded.

“‘
Cause, dumbass, you can swing harder
if ya’ haven’t got your goddamn coat on, now take it
off.”

I reluctantly shrugged off my coat and tossed
it against the building as he had done with his. Why I bothered I
really didn’t know. Whether I had the coat on or not, it wasn’t
going to make any difference. He had height, weight, training, and
even more importantly, first hand experience over me. There was no
way I could come out of this without broken bones and blood loss at
the minimum. At least it was cold outside, so I guessed when I
folded, I could use the parking lot as an interim full-body ice
pack until the ambulance arrived.

It’s not that I wasn’t going to defend
myself, mind you, but I also wasn’t stupid. A no win situation is
just that. Somebody isn’t going to win. And, I knew with absolute
certainty that it was me who was in the “no” column when it came to
a “win” in this instance.

I stood there, staring back at Ben, building
as much hatred as I could in hopes that I would at least get in a
shot or two before he clocked me and total darkness fell upon my
world. Once again, I could feel my heart hammering in my chest as
the glare locked between us.

Contrary to his instructions, not everyone
had stayed inside, and there was now a small gathering of uniformed
and plainclothes officers alike forming behind Ben. He didn’t seem
to have a problem with it, and truth is, he probably expected the
audience. Train wrecks always attract spectators, and that was
pretty much what was about to happen.

I couldn’t say for sure because I wasn’t
paying very close attention to them, but something told me wagers
were being made within the group. I didn’t imagine they were giving
me very good odds.

“Well, what the hell are ya’ waitin’ for?”
Ben finally said. “Come on. Let’s have it!”

“Have what?!” I snapped.

“Come on! Take your shot!”

“What?” I snarled. “You really expect me to
throw the first punch right here in front of a bunch of cops?”

“Everybody heard me say this is personal,
right?” he called over his shoulder.

A disjointed chorus of “yeah’s” and
“whatever’s” issued from the handful of onlookers.

“So then I guess you want me to swing first
just so you’ll have a clear conscience when you beat the shit out
of me?”

“Wake up, Rowan. I’ve got no intention of
hittin’ you, ya’ fuckin’ idiot! You’re the one that’s got the
issues here! Now come on! You been wantin’ ta’ hit me all goddamned
day, so just do it and get it over with!”

Incredulity flowed into my voice, unevenly
mixing with the anger that had already claimed the space. “You’re
going to let me hit you?”

“Ain’t that what I just said?”

“And you aren’t going to hit me back?”

“I am if ya’ don’t hurry the fuck up and do
it!” he shot back. “Now come on!”

I didn’t wait for him to repeat the
invitation again.

“Feel better now?” Ben asked, following the
question with a hard groan.

“A little,” I said, inspecting the ends of my
fingers where they protruded from beneath a stained cloth. “I don’t
think it’s broken.”

We were currently parked in a booth back
inside the diner, him positioned so that he was facing the door and
me on the opposite side of the chipped and uneven table. The
burgers from the sack were sitting before him, still folded neatly
into their paper wrappers. He hadn’t touched them except to pull
them from the bag before sending it across the street with one of
the other officers.

At this point, I wasn’t entirely sure if he
was going to eat them or just look at them longingly, as he was
still holding an ice-filled dishcloth pressed against the side of
his face. Of course, I wasn’t in much better shape considering that
I had its frigid twin wrapped around my hand.

After a moment he grunted. “Yeah, well I
wasn’t talkin’ ‘bout your hand.”

“Oh, you mean…” I replied, pantomiming a
right cross.

“Uh-huh.”

“Truth?”

“Yeah.”

“Right now I’m still thinking about it.”

“That’s fuckin’ great,” he huffed, voice
brimming with sarcasm. “So much for takin’ one on the chin.”

“How about you?” I asked.

“Hey, I’m not the one with the issues.”

“Okay, but I meant your jaw.”

“Oh…hurts like a sonofabitch.”

While the crux of my own pain was localized
dead center on the knuckles, it was still radiating up my forearm,
past my elbow, and stabbing into my shoulder at odd intervals. Much
to my surprise, the explosion of rage had somehow served to negate
my inherent clumsiness; so, as it turned out, I couldn’t have
landed a punch any squarer onto Ben’s jaw if I had mapped the angle
and trajectory with precision instruments.

Of course, in addition to that, not really
knowing for sure that he wasn’t going to retaliate once I struck, I
had gone for broke with that first swing, putting everything I
could muster behind it—hatred, anger, strength, and weight. The
problem was, as much as it actually ended up hurting him, for me it
had still been pretty much like I had slammed my fist into a brick
wall. At least, that’s how it felt to my throbbing hand.

He squinted back at me with one eye, reaching
up and working his jaw with his right hand while still keeping the
ice pack pressed against it with his left.

“Jeezus, white man…” he half-groaned. “Where
the hell’d ya’ learn ta’ punch like that anyway?”

“You, as I recall.”

“Oh yeah…” he muttered.

We sat in silence for a short span then I
asked, “So what do we do now?”

“That’s up ta’ you, Row,” he answered with a
sigh. “I’ve given ya’ all I got. If you wanna keep hatin’ me then
there’s nothin’ more I can do about it.”