Breaking Point

"I thought she was in France."

"Nope. Her father cut off her credit card. Actually she's looking for a job."

Nicky looked startled. "Max, I'm more surprised than if you told me the Reds won the World Series. Courtney's father is loaded."

"Well, that's not all so clear now. And Courtney's living off the money you're sending her every month."

She rubbed her chin. "We could use some help in the front of the house. I'm doing it most of the time and quite frankly I could use a bit of time off. It would also free me up to handle the paperwork I usually take care of late at night. Has she ever had a job?"

"I think you're going to have to teach her... like everything."

Nicky sighed. "Courtney bailed me out by buying a half interest in this diner when I desperately needed the money. I'm in. Did you want me to call her?"

"Would you?" I asked.

"Would you what?" asked Alessandra, holding two plates of steaming hot plates of osso buco. The rich smell of the slow braised veal shank made me lose my train of thought.

"Hire Courtney," Nicky said.

"Courtney?"

"I'll explain over lunch." Alessandra sat down with us, and Lesley and I chowed down on the savory, tender meat while I told her Courtney's tale of woe.

* * *

Sky came along with me to my late afternoon appointment at Worthington Greens. She was thrilled it was actually happening. Bibi was standing outside waiting and ushered us into her posh chrome and glass sales office. She of course was the lead sales associate for the $400 million mixed use project.

"I'm glad you were able to make it," Bibi said, sitting behind her chrome and glass desk in a leather swivel chair. "Can I offer you a sparkling water or a glass of white wine?"

"White wine for me," Sky answered. "Max?"

"Do you have any beer?" I asked.

Bibi leaned backwards and looked into the glass door of her mini-refrigerator.

"I'm afraid we don't," Bibi answered.

"I'm good," I said.

Bibi got up and poured herself and her roommate a glass of chardonnay.

We settled back into our comfortable upholstered white leather chairs as Bibi began her sales pitch.

"We're proud of this development. Our commercial space is 100% leased and our residential units should be sold out soon. Max, you and Sky have a unique opportunity to purchase at a substantial discount. As you know, St. Cyr Development has an unblemished record of success with its projects."

Sky tapped me on the shoulder. "It's good, isn't it Max?" She and her sorority sister were tag teaming me.

"Uh yeah, it sounds great," I said, lacking enthusiasm. It was all so clean, well kept... and soulless.

"Well," said Bibi, getting up with her glass of wine. "Let's see your new home."

* * *

We walked for about five minutes, passing through an immaculately manicured interior courtyard, flanked by ground floor retail with residential units above. We arrived at our building, which was located on the far side of the complex. We got into a gleaming, unmarked, stainless steel paneled elevator to the fourth level. The elevator doors opened to a neutral color commercial grade carpet which still smelled new. We went down the freshly painted hallway to an end unit. Bibi punched in an access code into the door mounted keypad. The door clicked open.

I couldn't help but think about Belvedere Terrace, and the contrast between the two living situations. Bear lived in squalor, but at least it looked lived in.

The unit was beautiful. White painted walls, more neutral colored carpeting, large windows with a view of the grassy common area. The kitchen looked just like the brochure, with expensive looking appliances and polished granite and marble working surfaces. The single bedroom was spacious and airy, with a sliding door to an outside balcony. Bibi demonstrated the jacuzzi feature on the oversized bathtub. This unit made my room at the Royal Palms look like a garbage dump.

"What do you think?" Sky asked me, looking at me expectantly.

"It's lovely," I said. Sky's face registered relief.

Then of course I spoiled the moment.

"I remember being here before," I said.

"Really?" Bibi replied.

Yeah, I remembered. There was an adult movie theater there. And on Thursdays they showed gay and lesbian movies. Right after I got divorced I felt free to question my sexuality. Encounters with other women in darkened corners of the theatre confirmed who I wanted to be with.

There was always wild shit going on in there. One time as a beat cop we got a complaint, so I went there with my partner, a guy named Ed Ryburn. He never saw the kind of shit I did, and when we got to the theater one day there was a woman in the front row having sex with at least a half dozen men. She seemed like she was enjoying herself, but our appearance ruined her show. She was a bottle blonde, maybe forty, and had cum splattered all over her face. It's something you can't forget.

I remember my partner said, "Shit," and pulled out a handkerchief and gave it to her. She wiped off her face with it and attempted to give it back.

"Keep it," he said. That handkerchief would never see the inside of his wife's washing machine.

Anyway, there were good memories of that skeezy theater, and I must have had an expression on my face that said I was going to share my story. Sky had already heard it from me, so she scowled and gave me an icy stare.

"Max, don't," she said in that tone of voice that told me there'd be hell to pay if I said more.

I did.

"Yeah, there used to be an adult movie theater right here where our unit is. And there was a big parking lot adjoining it, where your office is located."

"Yes," Bibi said. "I was told that."

The proverbial smoke was coming out of Sky's ears. Undaunted, I pressed on.

"I busted a woman in it, pretty much where you're standing," I said.

"Max," Sky said. Death lasers shooting out from her eyes.

I ignored her not so subtle warning.

"Yeah, she was pulling a train in the front row. I think she'd been through at least ten guys. She was covered in cum."

Sky growled at me.

"Oh my," said Bibi. Her face was ashen. Sky's face was beet red.

"Maybe a bit too much information," I said, stating the obvious.

* * *

Sky punched me in the arm hard when we left the sales office after we'd wrapped up our visit. It wasn't a friendly tap. It was meant to hurt, and it did.

"Max! What on earth got into you?" she shouted. She's not a shouter so she was pissed.

"I was telling the truth," I said, trying not to rub where she hit me. Fucking smug Bibi. With all of Daddy's money telling me that $275,000 isn't a lot of money, not to mention mortgaging my future for the next 30 years, with me knowing I'm living on top of a sleazy adult movie theater.

"Bibi didn't need to hear that. Honestly Max, sometimes you can be a first-class asshole."

"Is this one of those times?"

"Fuck you Max."

I deserved that. She was right. I was acting like a jerk. But Bibi was complicit with Daddy when he plowed down part of the West End's past so that their family could make more millions when they already had enough money for a hundred lifetimes. When is enough enough?

"Does she just get to wipe the slate clean? As if the past didn't exist?" I argued.

"No one knows that past," Sky said before she thought.

"I do," I said. "Don't I count? I'm the fucking one putting up my life savings and my retirement money. And I remember. Every time I'm standing in that spot in the living room I'm going to think about that woman on her knees, naked."

"Max... this is your chance to get a unit that there's a hundred other people that would take it. You don't understand the favor I've asked of Bibi. She could get in trouble if anyone found out."

Oh Sky. Did you really say that? Did I take someone else's place in line for affordable housing? I couldn't live with myself if I did. That "we carefully evaluate everyone's application" bullshit that Bibi told me was just that, bullshit. Sky had Bibi wire it for me. I should have known that, but I played along. But now that it was out in the open? There was no path forward.

"Best of luck Sky," I told her.

"What Max?" she half-shouted at me. I think she knew what I was thinking.

"I think this is it," I said. "You read me wrong."

"Max. Tell me you're not doing this." Her tone wasn't flattering.

"I'm doing it. It's done," I declared.

"You're breaking up with me?" It wasn't a half shout. It was a full shout.

"I think I did," I said.

I turned around and walked away, through the antiseptic courtyard to the freshly paved parking lot. They paved paradise and put up a parking lot.

* * *

After scarfing down a fast food dinner I retreated to my room at the Royal Palms to drown my sorrows at the bottom of a bottle of cheap vodka. I'd called it quits with Sky and it hurt so much that the vodka did nothing to quell the black pit in my stomach. Maybe I acted too impulsively, foolishly, but something told me that I didn't. How could I live in that sparkling new, soulless condo when I knew I was taking it from someone who was more deserving? I couldn't look myself in the mirror. And how could I look at Sky every day when she had no compunction about being a party to this fraud? I'd reached my breaking point and had no choice but to call it off.

Someone started pounding on the door. I staggered to the door, opening it and finding an angry Lesley in her civvies standing with her arms folded across her chest. The cold night air helped sober me up.

"I heard you gave Sky the boot," she said. She pushed her way in without an invitation.

"You're drunk," she said disgustedly, kicking aside an empty bottle.

"Not enough," I said. I picked up my second pint, still half full. I started to unscrew the plastic cap. Lesley slapped it on the floor. It clattered on the shabby carpeting. I tried to pick it up and fell over on my side.

"You make me sick," said Lesley. "You can't face love, so you run away from it. For Christ's sake, the woman really loves you and you throw her away, like a used Kleenex? And now you're wallowing in your sorrows in a fleabag motel. I'm ashamed to be your partner. Love 'em and leave 'em. That's you Max."

"That's not true," I said, trying not to slur my words. I couldn't blame Lesley for coming out swinging. I'm sure she heard Sky's version first.

She glowered at me as I struggled and failed to get to my feet.

"Enlighten me," she barked in a demanding tone. She doubted I had a good reason.

But I did. I told her about the subsidized unit at the Worthington Greens, and how Bibi had wired the application process at Sky's request so I would "win" one of the coveted units. The anger melted off Lesley's face when I spilled out the details.

"She didn't," Lesley said, not wanting to believe me. But she did believe me. I could tell from her body language.

"She did Lesley. There were over 500 applications. Somehow I won."

"Sheee-it," she said in true Clay Davis fashion. She did believe me, bless her.

"Yeah," I said. "Now do you see why I did it?"

I knew that Lesley's sense of right and wrong was closely aligned with mine. She reached down and pulled me up. She brushed a candy bar wrapper that had stuck to my ass.

"Max. Why does all this shit happen to you? Are you a shit magnet or something?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "Just lucky I guess."

"I thought I knew her," she said with a sigh.

"Me too," I said, putting my hand on her shoulder.

"We're down one research associate," she said, accepting my decision.

"Yeah," I said. "Now can you hand me that bottle?"

* * *

My brain was fuzzy the next morning. I went into Billie's office and told her that I wouldn't be needing Sky anymore. I didn't explain why, but she didn't press me. I'm sure it was because Campos was expecting something back for doing us a favor, and now that we weren't going to use Sky, that was a debt that didn't have to be paid.

"So what are you going to do?" Odette asked me.

"Lesley and I are going to handle it."

"Collins Holdings?" she asked.

"Uh huh. And Golden Spirit."

* * *

I went to the Landing Point that night to get blind stinking drunk. The whole Sky thing royally bummed me out and I wanted to forget about it, if only for a few hours. Kris was there, minding a full house of mostly off duty cops, but there was also a new bartender, someone I knew I had seen someplace else.

Then it hit me. Biker bar. West End. Tough crowd. Much tougher than this one. I'd broken up a couple fights there.

She looked like a biker babe. Black shoulder length hair that was a bit frizzy. Tats on her forearms. An eyebrow piercing. Nice body. Not as built as me but definitely filled out her tight black "Landing Point" t-shirt. Heavy black mascara around smoky green eyes. She had a sexual energy about her, sort of a trailer park version of Courtney. I could feel it. I guess I liked women with dark hair who looked hard edged and dangerous. She was bullshitting with a couple guys in Homicide though I could see her eyes stray to me for an instant.

Something told me I should sit at her bar instead of my usual table. Maybe it was my pussy speaking to me. My buddy Emil was sitting in one of the barstools. None were empty. I saw Emil stand up and pull out his wallet from his back pocket to settle his tab.

"This seat taken?" I asked him, pointing to his seat.

"Nope, kept it warm for you."

"So she new?" I asked him, pointing to her.

"Uh huh. Started working here about a week or so ago."

"You try to hit on her?" I asked. Emil was such a pussy hound. His ex-wife could attest to that.

"Plays for your team," he said glumly. So he did try to hit on her.

"Cheer up Emil. Maybe she likes dick. Maybe it's just you," I said.

We liked to poke each other but I could see on this face that my barb hurt.

"Fuck you Max," he said.

Bullseye.

"Sorry Emil, it's been a rough couple days for me," I said.

"Oh yeah," he said. "Sorry about Sky."

Every fucking person on the planet had heard about my break-up with Sky.

I put a twenty on the bar and give him his credit card back.

"Thanks Max," he said.

I sat in the stool and watched the woman work the bar. You can tell a lot about a bartender by watching her work the crowd. She was good, making drinks, flirting with the customers, and efficiently moving up and down the bar. I could tell that she knew I was there. She stole a glance at me a couple times before finally making her way to my end. She was holding a bottle of Maker's Mark and poured me a double, putting it on a Landing Point cocktail napkin, and sliding it in front of me.

It was my drink of choice.

"How'd you know?" I asked her.

"You look surprised," she said.

"I am."

"I've been here for a couple of weeks. Kris gives me your drink orders. You're usually here with a young one... couldn't be more than twenty -five? So where's your girlfriend?" she asked.

She was spot on with Sky's age.

"You notice a lot," I said.

"It's my job."

"Right."

"So?"

"Ex-girlfriend," I said, correcting her.

Her lips curled up into a smile. "So where is she?"

"Long story," I said.

"I get paid to hear long stories," she said. "Angela," she added, holding out her hand.

I shook it. "You know who I am," I said.

"Everyone does Max."

She poured herself a Maker's and stood in front of me like she had all the time in the world. She listened to me recount the gory details of my relationship with Sky. All of it. Well, most of it. I didn't tell her that Sky saw me kill Kreshnevsky. She was shaking her head at the end of the story, which took the better part of three bourbons.

Angela was a good listener. She didn't interrupt me while I relayed by tale of woe. She did a good job of recapping my story.

"She was desperate Max. It was the only way she was going to be able to keep you. Otherwise you were going to stay at the Royal Palms forever. I can't blame her motives, only her methods."

"So now you know why I'm here by myself."

"You don't need to go home alone tonight," she said to me in an offhanded way.

I let that thought percolate for a moment. She was hitting on me. I thought I wanted her when I first saw her but now I was sure.

"When do you get off?" I asked her.

She leaned forward so her lips were right next to my left ear. She had a scent of vanilla and leather.

"When your head is between my legs," she whispered. Her words sent a shiver up my spine.

"I'll wait till you're done." I said. I didn't care how long I had to wait.

"I figured," she said.

I spent the rest of the night drinking and waiting for Angela's shift to end.

* * *

We closed down the bar at 1 a.m. She followed me to my car, and I could smell the cheap whiskey that she was nipping at behind the bar. Her black hair was a bit mussed, and her mascara was starting to run under her eyes. She smiled when we pulled into the parking lot of the Royal Palms. There was still a brisk drug and skin trade that greeted us when we got out of the car.

"I can see why Sky wanted you out of here," she said, surveying the human flotsam and jetsam circulating around the parking lot. She leaned against my car, putting the palm of her hand on the front fender of my Civic, not in a hurry to go anywhere.

"It's my people," I said, "for better or for worse."

She looked around again. "I'd say worse."

"Funny," I said.

"Gotta smoke?"

I opened the car door and leaned into the cabin and opened the glove compartment. I pulled out a crumpled pack that still had two cigarettes in it. There was a book of matches inside the plastic wrapper. I gave her one and took the last one for myself. I crumpled the pack and threw it on the floor of the passenger side where it joined two other empty cigarette packs. She leaned over and cupped her hands around the cigarette to allow me to light it. I got to look at her pretty eyes with I lit her cigarette.

She took a big puff and let out a large plume of smoke. "Thanks," she said.

"You do this every night?" I asked.

"You mean smoke?"

"You know what I mean," I said.

"No."

"So I'm special?"

"I guess."

She looked at me quizzically. "You trying to get into my head?"

"No, just curious. I'm a detective. I always ask a lot of questions."

She took another puff and reached around and grabbed my ass, giving it a firm squeeze. It was a good omen.

"You want to talk, or you want to fuck?" she asked me.

"Fuck," I said.

"Right answer," she said.

* * *

She was looking over my shoulder as I reached in my pocket for the key to Room 204.

It felt weird going in with someone other than Sky. I got used to the idea of being with her forever, and now forever was over. I felt no guilt in having another woman in my bed.

Angela's hot breath was on the back of my neck when I was trying to unlock the door. I jiggled the key, but it was hard to concentrate when someone was kissing my neck.

"Hey," I said to her. "No touching the merchandise until we get in. Everyone here knows me and I'm not in the mood for public sex."

"I don't care where we do it," she said. "I want to lick you all over."

She blew in my ear. Another shiver. This woman was good.

"Shit," I said. Her advances unsettled me. I couldn't get the key to turn. It was a cheap mechanism and had been fixed more times than it should have been. A price you pay for living in a shit motel. The key finally turned.

"Fucking piece of shit," I said.

"I hope you weren't talking about me," she said.

I laughed. "The lock."

"Oh," she said.

Everything she said sounded sexy.

"C'mon," she said. The door finally opened, and she practically pushed me in. I'm a pretty big woman but she handled me like a sack of potatoes. She backed me onto the bed until I fell on it on my back.