The click of billiard balls, and the buzz and whistles of pinball machines, could barely be heard over the hum of voices.
They found a corner table recently vacated, where they could both sit with their backs to the photo covered wall. There they waited for their whip-thin server to clear the table and take their drink orders. David got a Bud draft, Jairo a Sierra Nevada.
The juke box switched from country to easy listening. The nearest TV was showing a UFC match. Jairo leaned forward, eyes alight.
L.A. BONEYARD
31
“All right, Penn and Sherk. Now there’s a righteous match.”
He looked back to find David watching him. “You into the fights?”
“I’m a hoop fan. Lakers.”
Jairo grinned. “Forget that crap. The Clippers are the team.
Lakers haven’t done shit since Shaquille retired.”
“To each his own. You from L.A?”
“San Diego. We moved up here when I was twelve, to Arcadia. We moved back four years later. But when I knew I wanted to be a cop, I looked at the San Diego PD and wasn’t exactly thrilled. Even after all the troubles I still wanted to join LAPD. So I took the test and got accepted. Let me tell you, I got some flack over that.”
“Family?”
“You’d think I’d killed the pope. Become a cop? Worse, an LAPD cop?”
David couldn’t help but smile. He’d had a similar reaction from his family when he announced his attentions. “It could have been worse, they could have wanted you to be a lawyer.”
“At least the hours would be better,” Jairo said. “Not to mention the pay.”
David buried his face in his mug. “I don’t need more money.”
He knew it was the wrong thing to say even before it was out of his mouth.
“Right,” Jairo said, and didn’t say anything else for a minute.
Finally he ventured. “So, what about you? How long you been a detective?”
“Ten years.”
“And you still like it?”
“It’s satisfying. When a case goes well. Frustrating as hell when it doesn’t.”
“Yeah, the bad ones hang on like a rotten smell.”
“What did you do before you transferred to homicide?”
32 P.A. Brown
“ABC, part of the safe and sober school patrol. When they first recruited me, someone thought I had a baby face, so I got assigned to a shoulder tap operation in this area. That’s how I found this place. At the end of the day I got tired of trying to get greedy adults to buy me booze, so I came here to buy my own.”
David could see it. Remove all signs of his facial hair and dress him down in a teen’s baggy getup, and he could easily pass for a delinquent high school student, who hadn’t quite mustered the brains to graduate. A badge of honor in some high schools.
David bet he got carded all the time until he adopted the carefully cultivated ragged urban look.
They talked about their days at the Academy. Though ten years apart, little had changed except the instructors.
“‘Cept by the time I got there, the modified choke hold had been banned, so we never learned that. Then, after I graduated, we get told we couldn’t use the term ‘distraction strike,’” Jairo snorted. “We could still do it, we just couldn’t call it that in our reports.”
“You have to love bureaucrats,” David said. “Be glad they finally dropped the Federal Consent Decree. That was a mess to work under.”
Jairo shrugged. “There’s always something, right.”
David lifted his mug to his mouth. “Yeah, there’s always someone who knows how to do our job better than we do.”
Jairo laughed.
Something hard and metallic came on the juke box. Jairo grimaced and jumped to his feet. “There’s gotta be something better than that on there.”
He searched his pockets, and came up with a handful of change. In the process his jacket came open, revealing his duty weapon in its shoulder holster. Several nearby patrons noticed it and stared. There was some whispered conversation, which David ignored while he watched Jairo feed the juke box, and whack the machine when it tried to spit his money back out.
L.A. BONEYARD
33
Finally it must have accepted the change; the Dixie Chicks came on talking how they were going to kill Earl.
“You don’t think that’s an odd choice for a homicide cop?”
Jairo dropped a plastic bowl of peanuts onto the table between them. He helped himself to a handful, sprinkling shells on the floor.
“Come on, you can’t tell me you don’t think it’s funny.
Besides, how can it be worse than Dexter?”
David just shook his shaggy head, and gulped the rest of his beer down. Jairo leapt to his feet and grabbed the mug. “Here, let me get you another one.”
Before David could object, he was gone. When he came back, he slid two mugs onto the scarred table top.
“You going to attend the autopsy tomorrow?” Jairo asked.
“Why, you don’t think you can handle it?”
“I can handle anything. But you’re supposed to be my training officer. How can you train me if you’re not there?”
“Then I guess I better show up. I wouldn’t want a dereliction of duty charge.”
“Let’s grab a late lunch before we head over. You got any favorite hangouts?”
“We go to Little Thailand a lot. It’s close to the station. Bill Maruti owns the place. He’s a retired cop. If you’re sure you can handle food before watching a corpse get sliced.”
“I can handle it.”
David didn’t mention the incident in the park. “Thai it is then.”
“Great, I love Thai.” He seemed to be thinking about his earlier lunch. “Well, good Thai.”
One of the waiters sidled over to their table. Both David and Jairo looked up at him. “You guys cops?” he asked.
“There a problem?” David asked.
“No, no, just that some folks saw your gun and they were concerned.”
34 P.A. Brown
David pulled his gold tin out and flashed it. Jairo did the same.
They were being watched by nearly everyone now. David noticed a couple of females were showing an avid interest in Jairo. Badge bunnies? He also noticed Jairo wasn’t paying attention back. Maybe the rumors were lies after all.
The bolder one approached their table. Her heavily made up face tried to look provocative. “You guys really off-duty cops?”
“No sugar,” Jairo drawled. He leaned toward her and whispered, “We’re undercover vice, big drug bust coming down. You might want to make yourself scarce. Wouldn’t want your pretty ass to land in a cage full of dykes.”
She flounced away. David laughed. “You better hope there isn’t any surveillance on the place, or you just compromised an operation. That could make you real popular with Professional Standards.”
“Hadn’t thought of that,” Jairo didn’t sound the least bit chastened. “Promise you won’t tell? I won’t do it again.”
“See you don’t,” David said, but he was still laughing.
He got another beer, part of him all too aware that he was drinking too much, too fast. Jairo was barely into his second.
He was going to have to take a cab home. But when he said that to Jairo, the younger man scoffed. “I’ve hardly had anything. I said I’d drop you off.”
“Where do you live?”
“Simi Valley.”
A popular spot with cops. David frowned, “That’s really out of your way. A cab would be easier—”
“Forget a cab. Those bastards soak you. I know, my brother drives a hack in Glendale.”
David knew he should refuse, but he’d already made too many bone-headed choices today. Coming here was only the latest. Besides, what was wrong with relaxing a bit after work?
Unlike a night out with Chris, where he could never talk about his job, or any of the ugliness he saw firsthand, Jairo did, and L.A. BONEYARD
35
saw the same things he did every day. David nodded. He checked the clock behind the bar: after midnight. On the jukebox Billy Ray Cyrus sang “Redneck Heaven” and David could feel Jairo’s booted foot tapping on the wooden floor. He grinned when David met his gaze, and signaled the waiter to bring another beer.
Jairo launched into a long, rambling account of a call he and his T.O. had gone out on. “It was a full moon, natch, and this woman calls 911, all hysterical. At least we thought she was a woman. She says her ex won’t stop coming around and bugging her. So we code three it out there, thinking we’re walking in on a domestic, wondering: is this guy armed? Are we gonna be met by some out-of-control Neanderthal, who just beat the crap out of this woman, and is just warming up for round two?”
David took another swig of beer, and watched the way Jairo came to life in the retelling. He was really getting into this story.
“So we roll, get to the place in record time and go charging into the house, sure we’re gonna find mayhem. She’s there, all alone.
And she ain’t no woman. She’s the biggest dragon I’ve ever seen. Six-five even without the Jimmy Choos and the giant pink beehive. She—he—hell, I never know what to call them, is raving about this guy who won’t leave her alone. But he ain’t there.”
“So what, the guy split?”
Jairo grinned. “You’re gonna love this. We’re there, ready to rumble on this guy, right? She’s still hysterical. ‘Get him out of here,’ she yells. ‘He knows he’s not supposed to be here.’“
“So he was there.”
“I’m looking around. There ain’t no one else in the house. I searched that place top to bottom. I’m looking in closets, under beds, everywhere. Nada. Zip. But when I tell her this she flips out on me again.
“‘No, he’s right there. Can’t you see him?’ She’s pointing at this big sagging easy chair that I swear was all sunken in like some lard ass actually
was
sitting in it. She’s damn near having a stroke about this time. My partner, Cutter, is starting to lose it with this...thing. But I’m still on probation, I don’t need any
36 P.A. Brown
reports on my jacket this early in the game, so I try to calm her down. Like, there’s no one there. He’s gone. He’s not there. But she ain’t buying. She points at this damn chair and says he’s right there. Can’t we see him? My partner’s about ready to blow a gasket by this time. I decide to try something different. I turn to the chair and tell this ‘spirit’ he ain’t wanted here any more.
He has to move his bony ass out of there and never come back.”
“So, did he?” David was laughing. At Jairo’s look he asked,
“Did he leave?”
Jairo popped a shelled peanut into his mouth. “Hell if I know. But she was all happy as a tweaker with a baggie full of meth. Kept thanking us until we finally got out of there.”
“He ever come back?”
“If he did, I never heard. Turns out the guy died like six weeks before this. She just couldn’t let him go.”
“Full moon’ll get you every time.”
They shared a grin over the peccadilloes of the people they were bound to protect and serve.
They watched some more of the fights while they traded stories of past capers, then David put his empty mug down. He tossed a couple of bills on the table. “That’s it for me. If that ride’s still on, I accept.”
“Sure.” Jairo leapt to his feet. He added another two dollars to the tip and led David outside into the dark parking lot.
Arriving as late as they had, they’d parked a good distance from the bar. The overhead street light was burned out or broken.
Jairo fumbled with his keys, but finally popped the passenger door open. David slipped past him, only to be stopped by Jairo blocking his path. Their hips rocked together, and Jairo leaned forward, his hands coming to rest on David’s hips, planting his mouth on David’s.
Sunday, 12:10 AM, Honolulu Avenue, La Crescenta
Desire swept through David, and he opened his mouth to Jairo’s encroaching tongue. He tasted of beer, and peanuts, and it brought him to instant hardness. David’s hands roamed over Jairo’s back, sliding over the hard muscles of his ass, feeling them clench at his touch. It was several heart-pounding seconds before he pushed the other man away. Mesmerized, he stared down at Jairo’s slightly parted mouth, and closed his eyes when their lips met again.
Jairo cupped David’s erection and pressed his mouth against David’s fevered throat.
David put his open hand against Jairo’s chest, feeling his heart thumping under his jacket. Both of them were breathing hard.
“Stop. You’re married. I’m married—”
“You’re not married. Not in any church at least.”
“That doesn’t matter to us.”
Jairo’s hands roamed over David, knowing full well he was aroused. They both were. “You can hide behind that stuffy exterior all you want, but I can see through that. You want me, admit it.”
David wrenched away from him. He hurriedly glanced around the empty parking lot. “I don’t do everything I want. It’s called self-control.”
Jairo folded his fingers around David’s pulsing hard-on.
“Hey, some things don’t lie.”
“Neither do I.” David stepped back, out of reach. “Listen, this isn’t going to work. I’ll call that cab—”
38 P.A. Brown
“No, I promised I’d take you home and I will. I also promise I won’t touch you again.” Jairo ran his finger over his chest.
“Cross my heart.”
David was feeling the effects of the beer now, as his lust faded and left an ache like a tooth gone bad. He knew he should go back into the bar and call a cab, but the wait was going to kill him. All he wanted to do was go home and crawl into bed.
He slid into the seat, jerking his seat belt on, while Jairo crossed around to the driver’s side and started the car up. The vehicle roared and vibrated under David’s feet. He gave the address and before long they were on the Glendale Freeway heading south. Nearly forty minutes later they pulled in behind Chris’s Escape. He glanced up at the second story window, but the house was dark. Maybe he was lucky and Chris was asleep.
From inside the house a volley of deep, menacing barks could be heard.
“Guess you still have a dog.”
David swore under his breath. One more problem to add to his growing pile. He turned to Jairo. “Thanks for the ride. I’ll see you at the station tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow.” Jairo saluted him and seconds later was racing down the normally quiet street, back toward the freeway.