She shook her head. “It’s consequences, Tom. You made a choice without us. You had to do what you thought was right. I’m doing the same thing.”
He left the next day. All he took with him were some clothes, a few boxes of books and CDs, a TV and an entertainment center, his recliner, some photo albums, a laptop computer, a mini?fridge, and all the guest?room furniture.
He put it all into the storage unit and himself into the hotel across the street, which was another storage unit, a place to shelve himself until his life started again.
And now it finally had.
Wade had all the furniture he needed for the apartment for now. He still had to buy dishes, cutlery, and cookware, a kitchen table, and a couch, but he was in no hurry. Paper plates, plastic silverware, and fast food would do fine for the time being.
He hired some day laborers who were milling around outside the storage facility with their own truck. They loaded his stuff in less than an hour and then followed him to his new home.
As he drove, Wade kept his eye on the rearview mirror, worried that his movers would turn around when they realized where he was heading, but they stuck with him. They unloaded his belongings into the upstairs apartment with amazing speed, eager to get their money and flee.
He couldn’t blame them.
While they unloaded his stuff, he taped some newspapers to the window to give himself some privacy until he could hang some drapes.
The movers dropped his box spring and mattress in the center of the living room and dumped most of his stuff around the bed. Wade hadn’t given any thought to interior design yet, anyway.
He walked them back to their truck and paid them off. As the truck drove away, he noticed that his move in had attracted a crowd across the street. They all seemed stunned by the sight. An alien invasion would have drawn fewer people and less incredulity.
A couple of the guys who’d trashed his car were among the lookie?loos, but Timo wasn’t one of them. His bashed?up Escalade was long gone, of course. It was a symbol of a humiliating defeat that Timo’s crew couldn’t let stand for all to see.
Guthrie stood outside his restaurant, leaning on his oxygen tank and smoking a cigarette. His daughter, Mandy, walked over to Wade just as the movers sped off. She was carrying a Styrofoam takeout box and a brown paper bag.
“I’ve seen a lot of people move out of this neighborhood,” Mandy said to Wade. “But I’ve never seen anybody foolish enough to move in.”
“I was won over by the warm welcome that I got yesterday,” Wade said.
“You’re crazier than I thought,” she said. “Are you moving into that upstairs apartment?”
“Yeah,” he said.
“The last person who lived there died, you know.”
“Of old age?” he asked.
“Lead poisoning,” she replied.
“From the paint?”
“From the bullets,” she said. “You really must have a death wish.”
“The wish isn’t mine,” he said.
“You’re just doing your best to grant it for somebody else,” she said and handed him the box and the bag. “I wish you wouldn’t.”
“I like your wish better,” he said.
“Then you’re going to pack up and get out?”
“I’m going be extra cautious and vigilant,” he said, then hefted the box. “What’s this?”
“Fry bread dusted with sugar, some maple syrup, and a cup of coffee. A housewarming gift. Or my contribution to your wake. I guess it depends on how the day goes.”
“Thanks,” he said. “I might stop by for dinner, if I’m still around by then.”
“You do that. Be sure to look both ways before crossing the street,” she said and turned back to her restaurant. He watched her walk away and remembered the advice that his dad had given to the waitress at the roadhouse. His father probably would have given the same advice to Mandy.
He went back inside, took a quick sip of coffee, and tore off a piece of the hot fry bread to eat on his way upstairs to change into his police uniform.
The deep?fried dough, the size of a dinner plate, was sweet and delicious and instantly addictive. If he didn’t want to become morbidly obese, he’d have to start doing his patrols on foot.
Wade was back downstairs within a few minutes, and at the front counter working on the rest of the fry bread, when a blue 1968 Chevy Impala convertible pulled up to the curb. The white soft top was torn, the paint was oxidized, and rust was eating away at some of the grill.
Officer Billy Hagen emerged in uniform, a smile on his face that only got bigger once he came through the door and looked around his new station. There was a freckle?faced boyishness and natural exuberance to him that made it hard for Wade to imagine Billy projecting much authority on the street.
Billy offered his hand to Wade. “Officer Billy Hagen, sir, reporting for duty.”
They shook hands. Billy had a firm grip and pumped his arm enthusiastically.
“Sergeant Tom Wade. Welcome aboard.”
“Damn glad to be here, sir.”
“Really?”
“This is not at all what I was expecting,” Billy said.
“What were you expecting?”
“After what I heard about you, I figured you’d be some moralistic, by?the?book, hard?ass shit kicker.”
“What makes you think that I’m not?”
Billy gestured to the walls. “We’ve got the same taste in decorating and movies, though I prefer Asscrack Bandits 3 way more than Asscrack Bandits 4.”
Wade had forgotten all about the porno posters. “Those posters aren’t mine. They were left over from the adult DVD store that used to be here.”
“Did they leave any DVDs behind?”
“I don’t think so,” Wade said.
“Did you look?”
“No,” Wade said.
“So there’s still hope,” Billy said.
“You mentioned that you’d heard about me.”
“They’ve got your face on one of the targets in the academy shooting range, mixed in with the civilians, cops, and perps,” Billy said. “You counted as a perp.”
“Do you have an opinion about what I did?”
Billy gestured to the fry bread. “Can I have a bite?”
“Help yourself,” Wade said.
Billy tore a piece of the bread off and popped it into his mouth. “It’s not my problem.”
“You’re a cop, aren’t you?”
“Out there.” Billy tipped his head to street. “Not in here.”
“So it’s a matter of loyalty to you.”
“It’s common sense.” Billy took another piece of fry bread. “Even a dog doesn’t shit where it sleeps.”
“I see,” Wade said.
“No offense meant,” Billy said with a grin.
“None taken.” Wade took another piece of fry bread before Billy ate it all. “Do you mind if I ask why you became a cop?”
“I didn’t want to spend my life in retail, which is where I knew I was heading,” Billy said. “I thought being a cop would be more exciting. You’re on the move, you never know what’s going to happen, and the pay is pretty good.”
“What about enforcing the law? Protecting and serving your community? How do you feel about that?”
