“No, I want to know what the hell that is. An amazing spectacle of nature. Lasts as long as a week. I’ll wake up in the morning all happy at the prospect of another day of life, then she’ll walk through the room and shoot me that look. Uh-oh, almost forgot: Shit’s still on! Where do they get that kind of endurance? I mean, check the frost in that body language! Plummeting toward absolute zero degrees Kelvin, where all life ceases to exist and electrons refuse to orbit their atoms…”
“Serge, I don’t think this is help—”
“…If I have something on my mind, I say it. But if she’s got an issue, it’s the sixty-four-dollar question. Did I forget an important date? Did I not compliment you on dinner? Did I track dirt in? Did I leave the seat up? Did I look at one of your girlfriends the wrong way? Did you think I was
“Serge, it might be better if—”
“…She wants to know why I spend time with Coleman?” He extended an upturned palm toward Molly. “Exhibit A. Men don’t do that. We just hang out and watch the game and not harbor festering shit. Of course, we’re responsible for almost all the homicides, so I guess there’s a tradeoff. But in between the murders, it’s really quite pleasant. Women, on the other hand…. Watch out! Have you ever heard them talk about their friends behind their backs? Pick, pick, pick, pick!…”
The counselor looked at the clock on the wall.
Molly was crying in her hands. Serge made a hissing sound and clawed at the air like a cat. “…They’ll rip you to pieces!”
A woman shouted in the hall. “Look out! You’re going to break that!”
Crash.
The counselor closed his file and smiled. “Same time next week?”
39
DAWN BROKE OVER the Florida Keys. It began like any other day. But by sunset, the TV people would have the footage of a lifetime.
It started with unusually heavy traffic on U.S. 1. A giant vinyl banner hung across the road:
FIRST ANNUAL DONALD GREELY
COMMUNITY APPRECIATION JAMBOREE
Small print underneath:
Paid for by The Committee for Fairness to Donald Greely
There was much to do. People busily handled festival preparations at a variety of locations.
A car pulled up to the sheriff’s substation on Cudjoe Key, Deputy Gus arriving for overtime security duty at the festival.
He opened the door and walked to his desk. There was a cardboard box on top of it. All the APBs and photos that he’d taped to the wall were inside.
Walter strolled over wearing an orange traffic vest. “Sorry to hear.”
“Hear what?”
“You getting fired.”
“I was?”
“Actually it’s not till Monday,” said Walter. “It’s a secret.”
“They’re really going to fire me over those Xeroxes of my—?”
“No, you just got probation for that,” said Walter. “They compromised with the union under the new tolerance for sexual deviants. Remember the precedent with the undercover guy who had the vagina surgery?”
“What? A transsexual?”
“No, he kept his penis, too. Then he started dating himself. The union argued you were just as weird.”
“How’d you find out?”
“Newspaper called me for comment.”
“Wonderful.”
“Don’t worry; I took your side. Told them you made a valuable contribution to law enforcement, despite your lifestyle choice.”
Gus began removing APBs from the cardboard box. “I don’t understand. Then why are they firing me?”
“Taping stuff to the wall. I warned you about that.”
“You’re joking.”
“Wish I was. Internal Affairs just left after taking it all down.”
“They can’t fire me for that.”
“They can under the new Three-Strikes Rule. First pot, then your dick. I’m afraid this is going to be our last shift together.”
“But it’s only taping stuff to the wall.”
“The Three-Strikes Rule has a Zero-Tolerance Policy.”
A FINGER PRESSED the doorbell button on Coleman’s trailer. The button fell off. A hand knocked.
Coleman had the stereo up all the way, watching a
Coleman looked in various directions, trying to place the noise. More banging. Coleman turned around, kneeled on the couch and opened the curtains. “Serge…”
“Open the door!”
“What? I can’t hear you.”
“Open the door!”
“Can’t hear you. Meet you at the door.”
Coleman opened up. Serge came in with his knapsack. “You idiot.”
“What are you doing here?”
“What do you mean? Aren’t you ready?”
“For what?”
“The Greely festival!” said Serge. “Our big operation. The one I’ve been talking about all week.”
“That’s today?”
“Yes!” Serge pulled a pair of walkie-talkies from his backpack and handed one to Coleman.
“Cool.”
“Get your stuff. We have to move out.” Serge raised the walkie-talkie to his mouth and keyed the mike.
