Deception

It was time to get back to the Royal Palms and the real business of finishing at least two of the bottles.

* * *

I got back to the Royal Palms a little bit past eight in the evening. It was a moonless night so the only light cast in the darkened parking lot came from the streetlights and the ambient light from the garish "Royal Palms" neon road sign. I parked in my usual spot near the fenced in swimming pool and went into the car's trunk to retrieve the night's entertainment. It was nice enough outside that I decided to finish off the bottle I'd started by the pool. I plopped down in a white plastic chaise lounge.

It was quiet. I could only hear the occasional shout from the adjoining neighborhood and the dull roar of the interstate that was a mile away. I screwed off the cap of the bottle I had started on. I took another sip. Not bad. Didn't burn as badly as the shitty stuff I always buy. I laid back and thought about Lesley. How I'd grown attached to her and how I worried about her. She was undersized for the rough and tumble West End, yet had the heart of a lion. Then my thoughts turned to Leah, and what could possibly come from our budding relationship. She was way out of my league but she seemed nonplussed by my bohemian lifestyle. I wondered how I was going to fuck this one up.

By the time I finished the bottle I noticed I was cold and decided to pack it in. I tossed the empty bottle into a rusty oil drum that served as a trash can and picked up the bag with the two remaining bottles. I was only a bit unsteady on my feet as I made my way to the exterior staircase.

I wobbled towards the stairwell as a light rain began to fall. The lower part of the stairwell was protected by a concrete wall that was painted pink, the official color of the Royal Palms. I stepped around it to get to the stairs.

No sooner had I rounded the wall when two strong arms tried to wrap me up. Even though my reflexes were dulled, I still manage to elude his grasp, though dropping the paper bag on the cement sidewalk. The air reeked of cheap vodka that splashed on the pavement. I spun around and saw two men. One of the men was familiar. He had the dragon tattoo on his forearm. The other man I didn't recognize was smaller and thinner. They looked ready to kick my ass and I wasn't ready to fight back.

I made an instant decision to go after the smaller guy, hoping to take him out and even the odds with Mr. Tattoo. I ran at him and slammed his body against the concrete wall. He slumped to the ground, down but not out. Unfortunately Mr. Tattoo was quick, and hit me in the small of the back with a pair of brass knuckles. I did a face plant on the concrete, feeling myself slipping into unconsciousness.

"Stand up!" he yelled at me. I struggled to my hands and knees. It felt like someone was sticking a needle in my back. He waited for me to get to my feet. All the fight had left me. His partner groaned on the sidewalk.

"You put your nose where it not belong," he snorted at me. He poked me hard in the stomach with his finger to emphasize his point.

"What do you mean?" I asked innocently. I knew exactly what he meant. I was fucking with DaVanna and payback was about to arrive. Suddenly the haze of vodka was replaced by anxiety and fear. A lot of scenarios raced through my head. None of them were good.

"You know what I mean. Here's the message."

The brass knuckles on his hand connected with my gut. It hurt like a motherfucker and took all the wind out of me. I fell to my knees.

He waved his thick, stubby finger in my face. "You understand?"

I was wheezing and couldn't talk so I nodded my head.

"Good. That message from someone else. This message from me for sucker punching me at restaurant." I guess he remembered what I did to him when I went to meet with his boss Trong Lai. He kicked me in the ribs and I fell over on my side, retching the vodka I'd consumed. I had a vile taste in my mouth.

He stood over me and spat on my face. I could feel his disgusting drool running down my cheek. "I don't like you. You not want to see me again."

He gave me one last swift kick to the ribs. Searing pain. I started to puke my guts out, and the heaving amplified the pain.

It was now a hard rain, and the cold water pelted my face as I groaned. I didn't even bother to call for help. This type of altercation was a daily occurrence at the Royal Palms. Nobody cared about a drunk, off duty cop who had just gotten the shit kicked out of her.

I gathered my strength and staggered up the stairs to my room to nurse my wounds. The message I received told me DaVanna sensed I was close to nailing her. She was a wolf in designer clothing who had blackmailed her boss, stolen my girlfriend, and arranged for a couple thugs to beat me up.

She was fucking with the wrong person.

Chapter Thirteen

The Confession

I spent the next week on sick leave licking my wounds in Room 204. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to cough. And I was certain it would hurt to fuck, so no Leah. I relegated myself to watching re-runs of Walker, Texas Ranger, eating Cheeto's and drinking beer. My ribs were wrapped tight, and I still had scrape marks on my face after I hit the deck following Mr. Tattoo's wallop. All in all, I looked as much of a wreck on the outside as I did on the inside.

Lesley stopped by during my convalescence to cheer me up, or at least her version of it. It was late afternoon, after she finished her shift with her temporary partner, Taichiro Watanabe, a third year beat officer who was as buttoned down as they come. She came bearing gifts, which in this case was a mega bag of Cool Ranch Doritos and a twelve pack of Hudepohl.

She lugged the beer into my room and dropped it on top of my mini-refrigerator. She opened up the bag of tasty corn chips and pulled a cold beer out of the carton.

"You look like shit Max," she told me as she ate a handful of chips and then chased it with a cold beer.

She plopped herself into one of the guest chairs, splayed out her legs, and picked up the remote.

"No more Walker, Texas Ranger," she said, changing the channel to some mindless romance on the Lifetime Network. "You think you're Chuck Norris, but I think after your last scuffle when you got the crap kicked out of you that you're more like Sheldon Cooper," harkening to the nerd on The Big Bang Theory. Fucking boot was getting an attitude, though she was right.

"Very funny Lesley," I said, wincing when I tried to laugh. "If this is your idea of comforting me, I think you're sadly mistaken." I pointed to the open bag she was grazing out of. "Give me that."

She handed the bag to me and took out a fistful of chips and put them in a paper cup.

"Chin up Max. DaVanna sending her goons to pound you means she's getting nervous, and that means you're getting close."

"I've thought the same thing, but it doesn't make my ribs feel any better."

I took a swig of beer. It cleared out the powdery taste of the Doritos.

"So what's it like having Watanabe as a partner? I heard that he's a stickler for rules and regulations. Everything by the book." He seemed like the antithesis of me.

"He almost makes me miss you," she said, making a sad face.

"So you miss me?"

"I said 'almost'."

She chugged the rest of her beer and crumpled the can between her hands. She was small but she was strong.

"Word in the station is that you've lost your edge. The invincible Max being bushwhacked by a couple of two bit hoods."

"I know." I sighed. "I'm getting sloppy. Those guys shouldn't have been able to take me that easily."

I went back for more Doritos. They haunt you.

"I told you your drinking's going to be your downfall," my partner said, scolding me like a small child.

I always thought I'd catch a bullet before my liver gave out. After the beating, the bullet was next.

"DaVanna's gunning for me now. It makes me want to get her more," I vowed.

"Come to think of it, DaVanna's going to be your downfall, even if you're careful, which you're not."

"C'mon Lesley. We're close. You know it. No risk no reward. They won't blindside me again and I know we can finish her before she finishes me."

"Max, she's got more power in her pinky than you can muster from a small army. I know it. My dad knows it. And you know it."

"I can't let this go."

Time for more beer. I leaned over to the mini-fridge and pulled a can out of the twelve pack that Lesley brought. I popped it and continued the vicious cycle of delicious snack food and beer.

"Seriously Max. When you're drunk, you're not good to anyone."

"That's not quite true," I said, correcting her.

"Is that so?"

"It improves my fucking technique."

"Is that a fact?"

"Leah thinks so."

Lesley laughed. "Leah doesn't know shit."

Lesley tossed her empty can into the trash and got up to retrieve another beer.

"How would you know?" I challenged her.

"I just know."

I sensed that Lesley said more than she meant to. I pushed back.

"How?"

"Max, I don't think it's my place to stick my nose into your relationship with Leah. She's going to have to tell you."

"Fuck you Lesley. You can't leave me hanging like this."

"Max, drop it . . . and give me back the Doritos."

We went back to watching the game, but Leah had a secret she wasn't sharing with me. I never investigated her - - it wasn't my style, but apparently Lesley had. The "what?" nagged me for the rest of the night.

I came out of my thoughts to see that there was some white bread couple making out on the television. "B" movie quality. It looked like it was shot in someone's basement.

"I can't believe you watch this shit," I said to her.

"It's better than watching the Reds. They've sucked. They suck. And they will always suck," she said, demonstrating her skillful verb conjugation.

She had me there.

"OK, tell me more about Alessandra." It was my turn to extract information.

"So you're back to that?"

"You got pretty personal just a minute ago."

"That was life and death."

"So?"

"You're just talking about dating and sex."

"So there was sex?"

"I didn't say that."

"I think you did."

"Max, I think I'm going to fall in love with her."

"No shit. You can tell after one date?"

She crushed her second can and retrieved a third. She started drinking from it before she answered.

"I kind of lied to you."

"About what?"

"I did stay the night."

"You little minx."

"That's how I know."

"That's sharing a lot."

"Max, it's pretty clear we have to share more of our lives with each other because our lives literally depend on it. I don't think we can watch out for each other if we keep secrets from each other."

"My life's an open book," I said.

She laughed. "Max, you kill me."

"I hope not."

"You know what I mean. I've never drunk as much beer as I do with you. You live life in the raw. I mean who fucking lives in a whorehouse that's supposed to be a motel?"

"I'm getting around to finding an apartment," I protested, though weakly.

"Bullshit."

She was getting to know me pretty well.

* * *

After a week of doing nothing and thinking about what Leah was going to tell me, she called me to invite me to lunch at Bistro Entrecôte, her favorite spot to eat (other than Nicky's). I accepted immediately.

"So how are you feeling Max? You up to going to a restaurant?"

"Still sore everywhere. But I got to get out of this place and I want to see you."

"What happened? You didn't give me any details."

"Couple guys jumped me and beat the shit out of me. One of them had a grudge against me so he gave me a couple extra kicks."

"That's awful. You're working on something that's dangerous, aren't you?" She sounded concerned, like Lesley.

"Not any more dangerous than other cases I've been on."

"So you get beat up all the time?"

"No. No. This hasn't happened to me before, but I deal with criminals. Sometimes shit gets out of hand."

"That's for sure. How much longer are you going to be off work?"

"Not much longer." I was going to get back on the case if it killed me, which it might.

"Anything going on with you?" I asked. It was her opening to tell me what she was going to tell me.

"No. Same old same old," she said, remaining tight lipped. What she was going to tell me was going to wait for the lunch.

* * *

The restaurant was only a few blocks from her downtown office, which made it a convenient meeting spot for her. It was a toney place with white tablecloths and beautiful flower arrangements. Not my usual cup of tea, but I'm not that fussy, and the food was very good. Mostly business people on expense accounts. The menu was classic French bistro and expensive. She waved to me from a two person table near the front window, though she didn't have the usual smile on her face.

We kissed briefly when I came to the table but there was no passion in it. She looked nice as she always did. She came from work, so she was in a work outfit. Even though it was less revealing than what she wore at night, I knew what was underneath it and I still lusted after her. I couldn't help it, even though I was bracing myself for bad news.

We talked about stuff that wasn't important until the waiter arrived to take our orders.

As usual, she ordered the mussels and I got the house specialty, steak and frites.

It was a nice sunny summer day which allowed us to enjoy the people watching out the front window in place of the awkward silence. Leah seem preoccupied and picked at her lunch. I was surprised I had an appetite, and enjoyed most of the steak and all of the fries. She didn't even help me eat them, which was another clue all was not right.

After we were done eating she intercepted the bill before I could reach for it. She went into her purse to retrieve her credit card. She slipped the card into the leather folio and then looked at me with a serious expression on her face.

"Max, I have a confession to make."

Here it comes, I told myself. I knew it was too good to be true. It always seems to be that way when things were going well for me.

"What is it?" I asked, not really wanting to hear the answer.

"I'm married," she said.

"What?" I asked, not really expecting an answer.

Even though I was expecting bad news, it still felt as if all the air was let out of my balloon. The conversation of the other diners and the noise from the street faded into the background. She had told me that she was divorced two years ago and that her ex Tom had moved to Detroit. Why did she lie to me?

Instead of answering, she looked at me with mournful eyes, which told me everything I needed to know. There was no excuse.

"To Tom?" I asked.

"Yes."

Fuck. So she never got divorced.

"I'm not going to ask you why you lied to me because now I don't know if I'll believe what you tell me," I said to her, trying to quell my rising anger.

She put her head in her hands to hide her face. I could her sobbing.

"You lied to me Leah. Why? Why would you do that?"

She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

"I don't know. I don't know. It was going so great with you that first night and I didn't want you to leave if I told you I was still married. Tom lives on the other end of the house and we don't see a lot of each other. It's been like that for two years. We can't afford to sell the house right now so that's what we've worked out."

"And how about getting a divorce?"

"Well, if we get divorced, our mortgage would be called, and neither of us can afford a mortgage on our own."

"Fuck Leah. I was falling in love with you."

"Please don't tell me that. I'm already torn up inside."

"Leah . . . shit . . . we can't go on."

"Max . . . " Her voice was quivering and the tears were starting to flow again. Nearby diners were looking over at us.

"Leah, you know this can't go on."

"Max, please."

"I'm going to get up and go out the front door. I'm sorry Leah."

I pushed my chair back and dropped my napkin on the table.

I took one last look. "Leah . . ." I said, and then dropped my head.

You may judge me as harsh but I put my life into the hands of people I trust. Leah lost my trust. Forever. There was no future for us, so what was the point? If we continued to see each other it would only build my resentment for her ruining our relationship. The truth of it was I didn't fucking care that she was married. I knew her heart was mine. But she lied to me. Big time. She didn't trust me enough to believe I could handle the truth. The lie was worse than the truth.

I turned around and went out the door wondering if I'd ever see her again.

Chapter Fourteen

Comeuppance

There are times when drinking makes perfect sense. After Leah's unexpected (and unwelcome) news, it was one of those times. I did always wonder why we met at my place and that I hadn't seen hers. There was always a ready excuse. It was too far away. The painters were working on it. It was too convenient to go to my place. Now it all made sense.

I've made plenty of mistakes, but I know the game with someone who's married. It's "I'm leaving him, I'm just waiting for the right time," but of course it's never the right time. I at least had the good sense to rip the band-aid off and move on. Maybe I'll have cooled down by the time Leah gets a divorce. I'm still mad that she felt the need to lie to me.

I went to the local liquor store to drown my sorrows. The usual prostitutes were missing from the parking lot, but there were a couple of shiny new convertibles with their tops down parked in front. It was a group of noisy and drunk teenagers from some ritzy neighborhood slumming it in the West End, drinking out of brown paper bags and passing around a joint.

I was focused on getting my vodka and getting out. I wanted to be drunk as quickly as possible. I was not amused when they stopped talking and looked at me. I had a scowl on my face.

I had on a tight black tee, so it doesn't take an imagination to know what I've got up top. Two guys were sitting on the rear deck of a convertible as I walked by. The guy closest to me leered at me and made an exaggerated cupping motion with his hands. His seatmate stifled a laugh. Assholes.

"Hey babe," he said in a wolfish voice.

He had slick black wavy hair and a shirt that was unbuttoned. He wasn't bad looking and he gave me his best bedroom eyes.

Dickhead. I stayed focused on my mission. The mission did not include bashing this asshole's head against the trunk lid. I kept my eyes focused forward and ignored him.

"Hey, big tits girl. I'm talking to you," he shouted at me. He starting standing up like he was going to go after me. The two guys in the other car whistled.

Enough. After the debacle with Leah I had a short fuse, and this asshole just lit it.

I turned to face him. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," he said. "I was just complimenting you on your titties."

I calmly walked over and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled his face inches from mine. He couldn't have been more than twenty, and his breath stank of booze. His eyes betrayed his fear.

"Leggo of me," he squealed. He wasn't used to being called out for his boorish behavior. He didn't put up a fight when I kept hold of his shirt.

"Listen, you little piece of shit. Apologize . . . now."

There was dead silence. He looked to his friends for support. There was none. They were cowards like him.

"Fuck off."

I could tell he was getting ready to spit on me. That wasn't going to happen. I gave him a quick right jab to the face. His nose exploded with blood, spattering his pure white shirt. His mates watched in horror though none of them made a move to confront me.

The asshole was holding his nose to staunch the bleeding. "You fucking bitch! I'm going to call the police!"