Unhinged (19 page)

My clothes for the night consisted of a short-sleeved, zipper-collared shirt with a white band traveling down the sides. It was one of many attempts by Jennifer to buy me something hip, but it just wasn't me. Blue jeans and black hiking boots finished off the ensemble.

I didn't want the hassle of having to fight through a huge crowd, so I arrived at Tripper's early. It was about ten o'clock when I showed the bouncer my ID. He was one huge, hairless muscle that blocked the whole doorframe. I felt like I was twenty-one again, only this time, I showed him my badge.

“Go right in, Officer,” he said. “Don't worry about the cover.”

In most cases, the relationship between bars and cops was symbiotic. Police were hired to watch the door and, in turn, could warn the owner of impending raids so they could check IDs a little closer and not let in the hot babes who might not be of age. Bars on good terms with officers tended to have less trouble and great response time when trouble occurred.

“Thanks.” I pulled Spider's picture out of my shirt pocket. “Have you seen this guy here before?”

He took a closer look and then gave the picture back to me. “That's the Absinthe Killer, isn't it?”

“Yeah, we have reason to believe he might have frequented this place when it was The Castle.”

“I don't recognize the guy, but you can talk to George the bartender. He's the only one who carried over from The Castle.”

I nodded and walked past the skyscraper into a black abyss. It took a second for my eyes to adjust to the darkness, but once focused, I saw neon pink and green that swept over the walls, tables, and columns. The music was pumping out strong, but there was no one on the huge dance floor for the multicolored lights to bounce off.

Half the booths were taken with the early birds, while the bar maintained a one-deep crowd with several holes in it. The best light from the whole place was coming from the back room where there was another bar and four pool tables.

When I was a few feet inside, I found myself in front of a girl with large fake boobs in a green psychedelic bikini with pink handprints. She was standing behind a gigantic tub of iced beer for incoming patrons. I saw just how cold she was in that position.

“Can I get you a beer?” She had a glowing line of pink neon under each eye as if she were on some tripped-out football team.

I leaned forward so I wouldn't have to yell. “Can you pick out George for me?”

She looked over at the main bar and pointed at the man who was filling up four shot glasses with tequila. His hair was short and spiky, and he was laughing with the shot drinkers like they were good friends.

“Thanks.” I took one last look at her quality swimwear and walked over to the bar, squeezing in between two sets of people.

George noticed me as a new customer right away and came over. “Hey, man. Where y'at?” He retained the smile he had on earlier.

“I'm good.” I showed him my badge. “You used to work here when this was The Castle, right?”

He lost his happy face. “Yeah. What's this about?”

“Have you seen this guy before?” I handed him Spider's picture.

“Here? I don't know. He looks familiar.” George stared at the picture for a while. Eventually he handed it back to me. “No, sorry. I see so many faces every night. They all blend together.”

“Thanks, anyway. I'll take an Amstel Light.” I threw a five-dollar bill on the bar.

He returned, giving me the beer, then slid the money through a water ring back at me.

Ignoring the wet Mr. Lincoln, I turned around and sat on a nearby stool as I scanned the area. My gaze ultimately returned to the bathing beauty near the entrance. The high beams were still on, bless her heart.

I finished the nearly frozen beer in about two minutes and got up to leave. Then I noticed that about twenty more kids had showed up since I came in, and I could see through the front window that a line had started to form. I turned to George, ordered another beer, and told him to keep them coming.

I eventually got to my fourth beer and felt a pretty good buzz going. It wasn't the same as college when I could down a twelve-pack and still walk straight.

George slid the beer to me along with a shot of tequila accompanied by two limes and a saltshaker.

“I didn't order this,” I yelled over the noise.

George pointed at the other end of the bar.

I nearly fell off my stool. Sarah Simpson was smiling at me as if she had come back from the dead to haunt me.

She disappeared into the growing gaggle and reappeared in front of me holding her own shot. “Hello, Detective.”

I blatantly checked her out from head to toe. She had on black high-heeled sandals and skintight black pants that started inches below her visible belly button. Her maroon blouse covered a navy tube top and was tied into a knot across her midsection, opened just enough to show the men what she was supporting.

“You look fantastic.” I picked up my shot. We both threw our heads back to down the tequila, then finished the process with the lime. I stared at her with a devil on my shoulder.

Sarah looked me over and smiled. “You clean up pretty good.”

“Thanks. This is my first time wearing this shirt.”

“What are you doing here?” She licked the lime from her fingers. “Are you alone?”

“I'm alone and I'm off duty. That's all I'm allowed to say.”

“I guess I would have heard if Lotz was caught.”

I nodded. She squeezed herself next to me, leaning her frame against the bar. Suddenly, I was twenty-one again, getting drunk and flirting. I didn't say much at first so as not to lead her on, but I could tell she was interested.

“What's it like being a detective? I know people must always ask if you shot anyone. Have you?”

“No. I almost did a couple of times.” I spoke so forcefully over the blaring bass that spit came out of my mouth. I was glad to see that she laughed it off. I finished my beer in one big swig, and she already had two more coming with two more shots.

“You trying to get me drunk?” I asked in her ear. I could smell her sweet fragrance mixing with the mango scent in her hair. I didn't care what the answer was.

She pulled back to take me in. “Maybe. You gonna dance with me?” Our cheeks lightly touched, and I felt the warmth of her breath spread over my ear.

My lips said the opposite of my brain. “Of course.”

She led me onto the dance floor, and once we were out there, I let my body do its own thing. A hip-hop song made the floor pulse, while lights flashed the colors of a rainbow and laser beams seemed to follow flies on the wall.

Sarah smiled seductively as she moved in close enough to rub on me until we both were in full dry hump, sweating from the heat of the crowd. I imagined we looked like embarrassing outcasts, but glancing around, I saw that we fit right in.

I didn't know exactly how it happened, but I found myself walking into Sarah's house. I remembered dancing, having a good time, drinking some more, and Sarah saying how scared she got at night when she heard noises. She convinced me to follow her home to make sure she drove okay. Then she convinced me to check out her place to make sure Lotz hadn't broken in. So far, all legitimate reasons.

I roamed around a bit, noticing how bare most of the rooms were. She could pack her things and move quickly if she wanted. Everything ended up being clear, and I circled around to find her sitting on the couch with two glasses of wine already poured. The lights were off, and two candles illuminated the living room.

“Have a nightcap with me,” Sarah said.

“Just one glass,” I whispered as I sat down, suddenly uncomfortable.

Her hand swept behind my head, and she gently rubbed the back of my neck. I closed my eyes, and the room began to spin. Her hand slid down my back, and she began kissing my cheek. I felt the crotch of my pants begin to empty of free space, and all other thoughts melted away. Her warm tongue slid gently up to my eye where her lips puckered on my eyelid.

I was drunk, mad at Jennifer, and I made myself single again. I kissed Sarah hard, finally giving into a fantasy I'd had ever since I first saw her.

She pulled away in order to climb on top, smothering me with her perfect body. As she balanced herself on her knees, with me between them, she took off her blouse, then her top. I think her twins got this kind of reaction all the time because she stopped for a moment, letting me take my time with them. After things got going, I found that I couldn't look her in the face.

My senses were dulled and things got hazy at times, but I knew what was happening, and because of Dr. Melon, I justified it in my mind. I decided not to let myself feel guilty until the morning. The mutual pleasure as she rose up and down filled me with a sexual power that I usually lacked when inebriated. I wasn't the rough spank-me type, but the surge was strong enough for me to pick her up and prop her against a wall.

“Oh, God, yes. Yes.
Yes,”
she yelled with every thrust. Pictures fell and shattered on the hardwood.

I stopped and turned her around, pinning her face against the wall so I didn't have to look at her. I became angry when I started again, seeing a foreshadowing of the guilt I'd have in the morning, and it became clear that this was nothing special. This was too easy—she was too easy.

I'm sorry, Jennifer.

I'm so sorry.

I
t was 6:45 in the morning, and my head was pounding with guilt. I awoke with a reality I thought I had dreamed, then eventually escaped from Sarah's place before she awoke, closing the door very quietly.

The night before, I had ended up parking a few houses down the street. As I walked, a nondescript white van pulled alongside me as if it were slowing to deliver newspapers, but then two men with masks jumped out and grabbed me before I could retrieve my weapon from my ankle holster.

They moved swiftly and with purpose. Some kind of bag was put over my head, and I was tossed into the van and felt myself being pummeled with kicks, bats, and God knows what else.

“I'm a cop,” I yelled as I tried to go for my gun again, but it wasn't there. One of the men must have removed it.

They flipped me onto my back, and I was struck hard in the face. The blood running down my chin felt like a bug crawling on my face.

“What do you want?” I feared this was going to be the end. They were going to shoot me with my own gun.

After two more hits, I found I couldn't lift myself up anymore. I didn't know if the van was moving or if they had parked it somewhere in order to toss me into a Dumpster. I lay in a half dream.

I felt my body get hit again, but there was no pain. I began to regret that Jennifer would remember me for dying the morning after I cheated on her. I wasn't ready to die, damn it.

Just before I lost consciousness, a man whispered into my ear, “Leave it be, or you'll regret it.”

Then came the blackness.

My head was killing me. When the realization of my ass kicking finally dawned on me, I opened my eyes wide and tried to raise my head. Big mistake.