| "Eight Dollars on the Outerbridge" | ||
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June 12, 2008 11 PM forward I pull my car over to the side of the road and parallel park about a half block from the club my boy's going into. I'm surprised I even found a space. The city never has any fucking parking. Of course, if I really needed to I'd just call into the station and have one of these fine motor vehicles towed somewhere. And since I'm in a particularly bad mood, the tow truck would be heading to the other side of the city, just to piss the driver off. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not one of those pissy type of people that aren't happy unless the whole world is miserable. I'm just a little ticked off that a uniform spotted my guy going into the club. I should have been watching him more closely I suppose. Two weeks of tailing someone and you are no closer to knowing who they are than if you never knew them at all. Does that make sense? See, I was handed this case a month ago. No leads, no witnesses (no witnesses that were talking anyway), no clues, nothing. Then I get a tip leading me six weeks later to the guy I'm tailing now. But it's weird. Weird in a way I can't quite figure out. See, my guy's been watching this club. This club here in the city and another in Jersey. Yeah, Jersey, another one of my favorite places to hate. Especially when crossing the Outerbridge is now eight fucking bucks! Lucky I have an expense report. We've been going back and forth and I've been checking things out, the club, really, it's a bar actually, and this store he went to once. Well, not a store, more of a consulting firm or something. That checked out as legit as well. He lives in the city, at least I think he does, but he spends an awful lot of time in Jersey. And he pals around with this chick. Beautiful girl, hell, I'd bang her. But I'm not sure what their relationship is. I've ran everything I could through every database I know, even bumped into him the other day and asked for directions. He wouldn't even lay a finger on the map. Like he knew. Like he knew somehow I was looking for a print. Who the fuck is this guy? It's really kind of pissing me off. Oh, but back to why I was originally pissed off. After really tailing him for two days and coming up empty, I started limiting my tailing to a couple hours and just basically keeping tabs on him. Mostly when he was in the city because the uniforms (the guys that actually wear uniforms) were handed a picture of him and told to call me if they saw him. Well, I just got one of those calls about ten minutes ago. And the little arrogant prick that delivered the message pissed me off. I don't like the guy, never have. He's been on the force, oh, about 6 months and working the beat (walking around in uniform on the streets). And he's the kind of guy that as soon as you meet him, you don't even have to shake his hand or speak with him, just looking at him tells you everything - that he's a complete asshole. One of those guys that picked on everyone in high school because he was a little bit bigger than everyone else. One of those guys that always dated the head cheerleader and was captain of some sport or another. One of those guys that usually ended up at the local Walmart selling DVD players after his glory days of high school because he was too busy picking on people and fucking the cheerleaders to bother studying. Well, Burnette, the officer who gave me the call, was one of those guys. The only difference was that Burnette's old man was on the force and had some pull so that pretty much gave him a free ride on the entrance exam and right into the academy. Wham, Bam, welcome to the NYPD. Normally, this wouldn't bother me, and I'd give him a nod if we crossed paths on the street, but somehow he ended up in MY department, on MY taskforce. What did I do to deserve this? Who did I piss off to deserve this asshole? What do I have to suck to get him away from me? Anyway, so Prick calls up with his smug attitude that I just want to reach through the phone and pull his stomach out through his mouth and tells me I should get off my ass cuz he's spotted my guy! Get off my ass, he says to me!!! Who the fuck does he think he is?!?!?! I snorted something short of 'go fuck yourself' and hung up on him. The little fuck. I went into the Captain's office and knocked on his door. 'I suggest you sit down with that little prick Burnette and tell him it's not nice to tell detectives to get off their asses.' And the Captain just looks at me as if this is the fiftieth time today someone's complained about Burnette's attitude. 'Unless you'd like me to have a little talk with him' I add for good measure. The Captain nods and waves me off. He'll say something, I know he will. He's a good Captain and goes out of his way to keep the politics of the office down and the morale at a level one step up from morbidly low. But I'm still pissed. And in a tiny sort of way I wanted the Captain to say to me, 'Tarnes, that's a good idea, why don't you have a little talk with him...say...down by the water...or maybe up on the bridge. I hear the Brooklyn bridge is beautiful in the evening.' If he had said that it would have made my night. Then me and Prick would have taken a nice little walk that would have ended with my gun in his face and a threat in his ear. Sounds kind of harsh, right? But it's not really. Some people need to be told to take a step back and reflect on their people skills. Wouldn't be the first time and I can guaran-fucking-tee it wouldn't be the last. But, as it was, Burnette would be getting a little slap on the wrist from the Captain. Next time, though, next time he says something sideways at me I really am going to reach down his throat and pull his stomach out of his mouth. Maybe that will shut him up. In any case, I'm here, outside the club I've sat so many times before in the last couple weeks, tailing my guy. I can imagine, as I watch him saunter up the street, his truck is already parked in the garage around the corner. Where the hell does he get the money to pay for this stuff anyway? Drugs probably. People who don't work are always into the drug selling. Stupid people. He doesn't have to stand in line anymore. I assume he did at some point. But now he's been coming here often, one time with this other guy who even I would think twice about fucking with, and I guess he got in with the right people. He just nods and chats with the bouncers for a little bit who look happy to see him. Charisma, the guy has got charisma, I'll give him that. Then he pops inside. I sigh. This is the exact point in time where my job stops being fun and starts sucking. Right about...now. Return |
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