“This is going to hurt, isn’t it?”
“I think we both need this, Dave. Unless you have someone to confide in I don’t know about.”
“All right. Pour the whiskey. I’ll go first.”
“Absolute honesty.”
“Nothing but.”
“How often do you think about me?”
“All the time. You?”
“Sometimes.”
“Honesty.”
“More than sometimes.”
“Ah.”
“But not all the time. How guilty do you feel?”
“About Chambers? I don’t know. I wish he hadn’t’ve.”
“Same.”
“But it hasn’t kept me up nights. Least so far.”
“What does?”
“What do I feel guilty about? Tabitha Sorenson. I feel helpless. Culpable. I don’t even know what I feel.”
“What about your police career?”
“Ask me three drinks from now. And anyway it’s my turn.”
“Go ahead.”
“When I left, did it ever occur to you to quit?”
“No.”
“Just like that.”
“When you lost your job, Dave, you were angry at everyone. Disappointed in me, in Ryan. I couldn’t’ve helped you by quitting. You needed to go somewhere by yourself.”
“So you think I deserved it.”
“I don’t know all the details.”
“Honesty.”
“Then yes. You seemed constantly out to live down your father’s reputation. It made you erratic. And us sleeping together made you overprotective. I needed to get my hands dirty and you were always trying to mediate between me and the job. Like you didn’t trust me.”
“I don’t think I like this honesty shit.”
“I’m having another if you are.”
“Pour. I guess I hate to ask—after I left, there was someone else?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“Who was better?”
“Oh please.”
“Honesty, ma’am.”
“You.”
“I knew it. By a lot, right?”
“No. When you and Ryan were fighting you could’ve talked him down.”
“Is that a question?”
“You saw him shove me and wanted to hit him. Right?”
“Yes.”
“See what I mean by overprotective?”
“Do you honestly think, Sonia—know what, never mind.”
“Go ahead.”
“Nah.”
“Say it. Please.”
“Fine. We both know the objections about female officers are just excuses, old boys’ club shit.”
“But . . . ?”
“Do you ever think there’s maybe a small, tiny, miniscule kernel of a point to that argument?”
“You obviously do.”
“Why I didn’t want to mention it. I know you’re an amazing cop, better than me or Ryan. But if I took a door with him backing me up I’d feel less apprehensive.”
“That’s because you loved me.”
“That’s part of it, sure. But you’re sympathetic-looking. Caveman bullshit kicks in. Just confuses things.”
“Maybe things ought to be confusing.”
“Maybe. Your turn.”
“Did you help me because you hoped I’d sleep with you again?”
“Well.”
“I fucking knew it.”
“You make it sound like payment. In my head it was more like gratitude.”
“Oh, David, dearest, you saved me. I realize now what a fool I’ve been. Could you ever see fit to forgive me for not recognizing your amazingness? Would it help if I took off your pants?”
“About that, but in reverse order.”
“Jesus, Wakeland. You are fucking hopeless, know that?”
“Sure. But it’s not like your head’s bolted on straight either. One more?”
“About half. That’s good.”
“What would it take, just out of curiosity?”
“Seriously? I’m not sure. I don’t think we can trust each other.”
“Is that a prerequisite?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact.”
“Then ask me anything.”
“What’ve I been doing?”
“Ask me something I’d lie about or evade.”
“I already did.”
“The job.”
“Right.”
“You really want to know?”
“I do know. I want to hear you say it.”
“Say that I beat the piss out of that guy. A suspect. For no reason. You want me to say that.”
“The truth, Dave.”
“All right. I did. I could tell you he was a scumbag, a bad human being, but fact is, I wanted to hit him and I did. Killing him crossed my mind.”
“Why are you smiling?”
“Because I’ve never said it before.”
“And it only took you seven years.”
“The guy ended up with a concussion. I was called up to the fifth floor, asked if I wanted my rep with me. The bosses laid out how serious it was, how I should’ve been straight up fired.”
“You told me you’d resigned.”
“I tell everybody that. It’s a funny thing.”
“What’s the truth? They forced you to?”
“No. Exactly the opposite. A slap on the wrist, a probation period, plus I’d maybe owe a favor or two.”
“So the truth—”
“I resigned. My choice.”
“Dave.”
“I’m not a police officer, Sonia. I can’t be one. In my heart I don’t believe the rules apply to me. My saving grace, though, if I have one, is I recognized it. Saw that ten, twenty years down the line, I’d be Chambers. Worse—Qiu and his money controlled Chambers, aimed him. I’d be busting every head till someone killed me, looking for some kind of justice that probably doesn’t exist. I—Christ, I’m a weepy fucking drunk.”
“It’s okay. It’s good.”
“I didn’t understand it. Still don’t. Maybe it plays into my own parents not being there. But I’ll tell you, if I have kids of my own, I’ll cling to those motherfuckers like lampreys.”
Sonia was laughing. It sounded strange. I realized I was laughing too. Laughing out all the hurt, the guilt. There were still tears on my face, but I was beyond the pain of memory. I was lighter than I’d felt in years.
Sonia had her arms around my neck, in my hair. Holding me. I wanted to tell her I was glad but she shushed me with a kiss. Her arms tightened and I felt myself lifting her onto the desk, cupping her face, matching the warm hunger of her mouth. She broke the embrace long enough to shrug out of her jeans. I leaned her back, pushing papers to the floor and the revolver to the edge of the desk. I kissed down her throat, moving past the cumbersome clinging bra to her dark trimmed pubic hair and below.
I had my face buried in pussy when they broke down the door.