Strange Intersections

Max

Max Peckham is a man's man. He is what some say to be, good looking, smart, some would say funny, others wouldn't. He is hard-working, has a good job, and is pretty much exceptionally good at whatever he set his mind to, with the exception of love.

Tiffany and Max were at one time, in love. He was a romantic. He bought her flowers and candy for no reason other than his true love for her. He made dinner whenever he could, and most of the time it was palatable. He helped around the house and wasn't a slob. And the sex, whenever the college sweethearts found time, was great. Lots of foreplay, with lots of kissing, it was just the way the Tiffany wanted it. Plain, but effective.

Max had graduated from police college with flying colors. He had many good job offers, but they agreed upon one in particular, and he accepted the best offer of a job that was thrown his way. A few weeks later, he and Tiffany moved to Denver with dreams and plans to make a beautiful life together. Two kids, two cars, two dogs, and travel, lots and lots of travel, but after just under two years on the force Max noticed a posting. It was for a position on the force as a detective. Beside the posting was the pay scale and the increments of the raises that accompanied the job. Max was obsessed. The money alone would help them realize their dream of owning a house. It was all he could or would talk about.

Becoming a detective in a market saturated with hundreds of other cops was hard work. It took countless hours of work and study. But just like all the other things in Max's life, once he had put it in his mind, everything else became a blur that fast forwarded past him.

The telltale signs of a declining relationship escaped him. Coming home late and finding that Tiffany was out with her friends. More and more time away from home to be with her friends, or that she had driven out of town to her parent's home without an invitation for him to join her. Going out for dinner after work and not bringing him anything home or even offering to do so. They were signs. Signs that were overlooked. It was poor detective work for sure.

As Max got closer to the finish line, things at home got worse. Small fights broke out over the littlest things. Tiffany became loud and aggressive, while Max shutdown. There was never a winner in any of their battles.

After another of his famous 12-hour shifts, on a cold, slushy November night, Max made his way home. He had stopped at Yang's on the way home and picked up a bottle of Mondavi and bouquet of daisies, Tiffany's favorite. Hopefully it would calm the wrath that he knew he was about to face.

The elegant old 8 story brick building was very clean, and it was in a good part of town. Max loved walking into the foyer area. The smells of old wood and the scents of what the other tenants were cooking, always made him smile. Today, the elevator floor was coated with slush and mud, more so than usual. The walls still had the thick cushioned blankets that covered and protected the oak veneer from being damaged during a move. Still no clue.

The hall had a light blue felt covering to save the carpet from damage and it stopped directly at the door to his apartment.

When Max flipped the switch inside, you didn't need to be a very good detective to figure out what had gone on during the day.

Gone was most of the furniture, all the dishes. The bedroom set. The...well fucking near everything. The only things left were Max's camping equipment, his stereo equipment, his television, his clothes, along with his personal belongings and the engagement ring that he had given Tiffany. The ring that at one time had meant the world to them both.

Tiffany did have the decency to leave behind a letter, a couple of towels, some food and a few beers, but even after searching for 15 minutes, the remote for the T.V. was nowhere to be found.

The next two weeks were hell. Max refused to write his exam. He no longer wanted his dream. Nor did he want Denver. With a glowing letter of reference from his Captain, Max was offered a position on the other side of the country. Thinking that a change was all that he needed, he accepted a job with the Clearwater P.D. in Florida, but just looking at him, you could tell that his life was coming apart at the seams.

Caleb

Caleb Jones has had a string of bad luck that dates back 6 or 7 years.

Caleb was or is a good-looking guy. He was a star in high school. At 6' 5" tall he was a very good basketball player. He had great hands and court savvy. He could see the plays unfolding, often before the other teams had time to react. But basketball wasn't Caleb's dream. No, that was saved for football. All Caleb ever wanted in life was to play ball just up the highway for his beloved Seminoles.

That dream came true. Caleb's high school team won the state championship. His teenaged star was on the rise. Caleb had his choice of schools. Florida State was one of them.

Unfortunately, he received limited playing time during the first 5 games of the season, but in the first quarter of the sixth game he got his big chance.

The nationally televised game had millions of viewers. Among them were the 70 some odd people gathered at the Jones house to watch the game.

Caleb had a day to remember. He ran back an interception for a touchdown. He single-handedly shutdown Syracuse's passing game, and that went into the record books and can never be taken away from him, but like any cruel joke, there was a very shitty punchline waiting.

With just over 2 minutes left in the game, the defense was already celebrating on the side lines. Caleb's mind was on too many other things, and the game wasn't one of them. The Seminoles were running the ball. They were just killing time. There were no plans to run out of bounds and stop the clock, but the RB noticed a hole down the side and tried for the first down.

Every player on the field had dreams just like Caleb's. They all wanted to play well enough to make the big show. Earn millions of dollars. Fast cars, fancy houses, pretty girls. The outside linebacker for Syracuse was the same. He was playing until the final whistle. He saw a chance to make a big play, and he took it. His shoulder propelled the Seminole running back into the air. Their bodies hit a mass of Seminole defensive players standing on the sidelines, off field.

The Jones family would remember the screams of their son for years to come. The combined weight of more than 400 lbs crashed into Caleb's leg. The blown-out knee and torn up ACL and three different surgeries ended his season, his playing career, and his dream.

S

Caleb found out the hard way that scholarships have a strange way of disappearing if you don't have good grades and when your playing career has ended. It wasn't the school's fault. Caleb never had good grades. He refused to study, he was a star and stars don't study. They get the hordes of football groupies to do their homework for them, but those pretty little things only do that, and the other things to which he had become accustom, for the guys on the team.

So, having sailed through high school on his unenthusiastic performance, and the lies of teachers who were football fans first and teachers second, Caleb's low grades and lack of desire, led him down a path where he ended up working at a Captain Hook's corner store.

The Jones family had strong moral values. His parents were deeply involved in the church and tried to lead their eldest son down the right path, toward a better place, but Caleb just couldn't get his act together. Over the next four years after college, he hopped from job to job. He was charged with a series of minor offenses, nothing serious, drunk and disorderly, possession of marijuana, driving with a suspended license. All minor charges, but big enough that background checks were made on a young black man hoping for a better job, they almost always eliminated him from contention and consideration.

Caleb was a hard luck guy.

Until Kayla entered his life, Caleb thought that at 24 years old, his best days were behind him. Kayla worked hard. She wanted a better life for herself and those that surrounded her. She very aware that it took hard work at get the things that she deemed important. After 6 months of dating, she had Caleb signed up at St Petersburg College, and after 30 months of hard work, Caleb graduated with a degree in Sustainable Construction Technology.

With a newfound vigor in his life, things were looking up. A girlfriend that he hoped would soon be his fiancée, and a degree that enabled him to apply for a number of jobs that would pay much more than the going rate of minimum wage. It would appear as though Caleb's life was on an upward swing.

Strange intersection.

Making the long move cross country between the holidays hadn't been what anyone would call, ideal, but Max settled in and after two days of orientation he started fresh on January 1^st. A new year. A new job, and hopefully a new life.

The first month sped past. More and more tourists visited. All of the sunseekers came down to Florida and Clearwater in search of the famed sun and sand. The beach, heat and bikinis were easy enough to get used to and by the time March break was in full swing, so was Max. He knew the area. He knew the routines and he knew his job.

Like many bachelors and most cops, Max didn't pack a lunch. Instead he opted for the finer dining choices of Popeye's or tonight's pick, a salad from a Publix store.

Sitting in the unmarked Explorer, under the shade of one of the few trees in the parking lot, Max watched the world passing by.

It was not uncommon for partiers to make a mad dash to a liquor store any day in Florida, so when the white Nissan Altima raced past his truck it didn't catch his eye, what did make him notice was the loud music and lack of any kind of license plates or temporary window sticker.

Max watched the couple get out of the vehicle and head inside. Looking at the last few bites of a salad that could have been way better than it actually was, he finished it up and washed the remnants down with a couple of mouthfuls of Diet Coke.

The couple looked happy. They were laughing and pushing one another by the shoulder, throwing small unharmful hip checks at the other as they headed back toward the un-plated car. Max was envious of their happiness. They were happy, perhaps even in love. Max hoped that theirs would be a routine stop and he could send them on their way after a few simple questions.

The young lady carried the large paper bag and put it into the front seat with her. With the music cranked back up they headed out of the parking lot.

Turning left, the couple headed down Missouri Ave. Stopping for the light, they signaled another left turn onto Lakeview Rd. Max was 4 vehicles back, but he could still see that the right brake light was out.

Following them down Lakeview, their car made a right-handed turn onto S. Highland. It was unexpected because just like the brake light, the signal light was also out.

In plain sight, the two tallboy cans touched together in what appeared to be a "cheers' like motion. Max's first thought that this might just be a routine stop had now been thrown out the window. It was now going to be a shitshow.

The flash of the blue and whites, along with the short blast of the siren alerted the car's occupants that they needed to pull over. Max watched a can fly out of the passenger side window. Really? Another none signaled right turn onto Citrus St. and the car came to a stop. As was routine, Max flipped back the strap of his sidearm and asked for a show of hands.

On his way forward, Max shook his head. The smell of bad weed filled his nostrils. It was just one more thing to ad to the list. He may just as well call for a tow-truck right now.

"License and registration please."

Caleb sat stunned, everything that had felt so right 15 minutes ago, now felt like he was about to be...well, fucked.

"Officer, can I ask why you are pulling me over?" His voice was to a point where it was almost trembling.

"First of all..."

"It's because we're black. He thinks we stole this fuckin car. What, you didn't fill your quota for harassing black folk today?" The female passenger was pissed. Her accusations just made Max more aware of the surroundings.

"No. I noticed that your car doesn't have any tags or a temp sticker visible."

"Oh man. Officer, I'm sorry. This car isn't even ours, it belongs to our neighbor. He loaned it to us to do some errands and run down to..."

"Then, I noticed the right-side lighting system isn't working. No brake light, no turn signal."

"That's all? That's what you pulled us over for? Hmmmm, go figure. Another likely story. Look like we're busted. What's a couple more, black folk spending the night in jail." The young lady wasn't making things any easier for her man.

"Those things alone are enough to pull you over, but as I got closer to your vehicle, I observed you consuming what I assume were alcoholic beverages while driving. When I identified myself, one of the occupants of this vehicle tossed said can out of the open window."

"Bullshit." She was not a happy girl, but Caleb knew his troubles were just adding up.

"Ma'am, I have no reason to lie. The on-dash camera will clearly display to the courts, the correctness of what I am telling you. And lastly when I approached your vehicle the scent of cannabis was clear in the air."

"Fuck you! You're trying to frame us. Ain't no weed in this car. You didn't smell shit."

"JORDAN." The driver had heard enough.

"I'm from Denver ma'am. I've smelled the difference between "shit" and "weed". License and registration. Ma'am, I'll need your identification as well."

The driver scrambled, looking for paperwork that wasn't available.

"Sir, I don't see the insurance or any other papers in the glovebox, but I promise, if you just follow me up the block, Bill can explain everything to you."

The in-car screen showed nothing on one M. Jordan Jones. Her history was clear. A clean record. Caleb's record on the other hand wasn't as glowing. His driver's license was current and up to date. By the VIN number I found that the car was registered to an address directly beside his and it hadn't been reported stolen. Yet Caleb he couldn't escape the past history of his petty crimes. But one thing that caught Max's eye, was the lack of any current activity on the crime front. Caleb had been clean for almost 4 years.

"If I could have you both step out of the vehicle. Ma'am, if you can stand in front of my truck and sir, if you could stand in front of yours."

"What, didn't you call for back-up yet? Aren't you afraid? Aren't you worried that two innocent black people are going to shoot you? You fuckin racist."

Enough was enough.

"Sir, please stay put." I gently escorted Jordan to the back of my cruiser and had her sit in the back, out of harm's way. Holding her arm, he could feel the hardness and strength. She was a beautiful woman. Tall, slim, very well built and definitely in good physical shape.

A thorough search of the car revealed everything that he thought was inside. The weed, a six-pack of cold beer and a six-pack of Twisted Tea coolers. It was less than 20gms of weed, but still. And his beer only had two or three sips out of it, but still. The cooler, he couldn't be sure of, because the can was laying roadside, back on Highland. The driver was as close as close can get to tears. He placed the items on the Altima's hood and looked over at him.

"So, what gives man? You live just down the block. You couldn't wait 'til you get home to light-up, or to open a beer?"

"I'm stupid. I messed up, big." He looked the cop directly in the eyes.

"Are you hoping that I'll say you're not? Because, I'm not going to tell you that. Lots of kids and families live in this area. You live in this area. You and your wife can't be driving under the influence, and without any vehicle paperwork, how do I know that the car isn't stolen?"

"My sister and the car, it's not stolen. Follow me home, at least we can clear up that part. Bill's got to be wondering by now anyway."

"Fine but explain the weed and booze."

Caleb reached into his pocket. The unwise action should have caused reason for concern, but it didn't, there was a sincerity and trust in both of their faces. His hand was shaking as he handed an envelope to the cop.

"Don't you need to be bonded for this?" Max was reading the paperwork.

"Yes sir."

"What about your past charges?"

"Exonerated."

"It looks like a pretty good offer, yet you're willing to screw it up by doing something stupid like you did?" Caleb had accepted a job offer, his start date was confirmed in the letter for the upcoming Monday, and his pay looked to be fair and good, with lots of opportunity for growth.

"No sir. It's just...it's just that when you've been beaten down so much, and your second chance comes around, you don't know how to handle it. I'm...sorry...I messed up. I always mess up."

True words. Max was still waiting on his second chance. Life had delivered him some shit, yet so far here in Florida he was still struggling, but he was keeping his head above water.

"Look, I don't want to be the bad guy here, but I can't let you go on thinking that what you've done is fine, because it's not."

"Officer, I understand, you're only doin your job. I messed up. I messed up real big." The two spoke for over 30 minutes. Not once did either look back to the cruiser.

"I'll tell you what." Max looked at Caleb, shook his head in disbelief of what he was about to say, and continued. "You put the weed and booze in the backseat. I'll follow ten car lengths behind you. You pull that car in the driveway where it belongs and park it. I'll drive by, and no one knows a thing. I ever catch you driving an un-plated vehicle while you're drinking or smoking again, and you're going straight to jail. Understood?"

"Yes sir. I promise, it will never happen again." Caleb gathered the stuff and put it in the backseat. Jumping in, he started the car.

"Caleb."

"Yes sir."

"Keep that promise. Not for me, but for yourself, and good luck with the new job."

"Thank you, officer." And he pulled away.

Walking back to his cruiser, Max hoped that he had made the correct decision.

"What the fuck?"

The words made Max jump out of his skin. It was the first time in a very long time that something had startled him. Caleb was so excited about being given a break, that he had driven away without his sister.

"You're letting him go, and you're arresting me?"

"Not quite." Caleb was out of sight, so Max pulled a "U" turn and headed back to Highland.

Pulling up, Max got out, went to the back-passenger door on the curb side and opened it.

"What?'

"Slide over and get out?" Her beautiful face scrunched up.

"You are not leaving me here! I don't have my purse, phone or anything. You can't just leave me here. What kinda cop are you anyway? You just gonna drive away?"

"No, I'm letting you pick up your garbage from earlier, so that I don't have to give you a littering citation."

Jordan's eyes never left Max, even when she bent down to pick up the trash. He held the door for her and closed it when she sat back down.

When they turned back on to Citrus, Max asked her for the address.

"Do you want me to let you out before or after the house?"

"Stop in front. This thing doesn't look like no cop car. My neighbors will think that I got a special UBER."

The chuckle was much needed in Max's life.

"Yeah, but when I get out to open your door, they might question why your new UBER guy wears a uniform and gun?"

"Shit, stop here."

The Altima was parked 5 houses away. Caleb was standing in a driveway next to it with his large paper bag in hand.