CHAPTER THREE

Brian lay in the bed staring up at the ceiling. In less than a week, his life had change dramatically. His wife had walked out on him, leaving him alone with his son, and to top it off, his new assignment meant he would be a glorified baby-sitter. He closed his eyes and thought about the conversation he’d had with Chief Whitt.

Detective Jackson,” the old man said when he spotted Brian standing at the door. “Come in and have a seat.”

Chief Whitt was an old-time police chief. He still smoked fat cigars in his office, in spite of the big no smoking sign on the outside of his door and he had a bottle of bourbon in his desk drawer, along with a package of pork skins. When Brian sat down, Whitt pulled out a cigar and offered one to his favorite officer. Brian shook his head.

What’s wrong?” Whitt asked.


“I need out of the vice/narcotics unit,” Brian said slowly.

Whitt nearly choked on a mouthful of smoke. “What? Jackson, no way. You’re the best I have and. . . What’s bringing this on? You built that unit. Hell, if it weren’t for you we’d still have traffickers setting up shops on Main Street. You get a rush out of bringing dealers down. What’s really going on?”

It’s personal, sir,” Brian said, hoping to avoid telling his boss about the collapse of his marriage.

Whitt took a drag of the cigar and exhaled. Smoke circled above his head like a cloud. “You’re going to have to do better than that. You leaving the squad is basically like dismantling it,” he said. Disappointment and anger peppered his tone. “What’s going on, Jackson?”

Olivia and I are getting a divorce and I have to do what’s best for my son,” Brian said through clinched teeth.

Whitt tapped his cigar against the oval-shaped ashtray on the corner of his desk. “I didn’t know this was happening to you. Shit like this is common in our line of work.”

Brian stared at him blankly. Was he supposed to tell his chief that for the last five years he’d been living with a woman who had turned into someone he didn’t like?

Olivia had a lot of dreams and fashion design was one of them. But instead of following her heart after high school, she’d let her mother talk her into staying in Elmore. Brian had tried to push her into doing what she wanted to do. He didn’t think it fair for him to live his dream and Olivia to abandon hers. One day, he knew, even though it wasn’t really his fault, she’d end up resenting him.

Three years into their marriage, Olivia had applied to the Atlanta School of Design and Fashion. She had been accepted and Brian was ready to move to Georgia. He’d applied for a job with the Atlanta Police Department and gotten hired.

But the moment they told Davina, Olivia’s mom, about their move, Davina suddenly became ill. Brian knew there was nothing wrong with that battle-ax. He’d joked privately with his sister that Davina would outlive the roaches.

Olivia, on the other hand, feared that her mother was deathly ill and put off her plans — again. She told Brian that the school would hold her place for a year and once she knew her mother’s condition, they would go to Atlanta.

It never happened, at least not the way Brian wanted it to happen. He would’ve packed up and moved to Georgia, taken the job with APD just to make Olivia happy.

I hope you can understand that my son is more important than anything to me right now. If I don’t do something, I could lose him. As much as I love my work, I love my son more.”

Whitt put his feet up on the desk and looked thoughtfully at Brian. “Well, I understand your family is important and I’ll be happy to work with you.” Whitt reached into his desk drawer, pulling out his half empty bottle of bourbon and two shot glasses. He poured the liquor into the glasses and pushed one to Brian. “As a matter of fact, we’re starting a new program at the high school. The mayor and the school board seem to think that there’s a gang of delinquents over there. Two weeks ago, a teacher was accosted in the parking lot. They’ve had a student bring a gun to school and fights break out every other week. So, they’ve asked us to step in as school resource officers. I was thinking of putting one of the rookies in there, but given your situation, this seems like a great opportunity for you.”

What, I’m supposed to patrol a bunch of kids all day?” Brian asked. He was hoping to be assigned to the traffic division or something. The last thing he wanted was to be the surrogate father to a bunch of teenagers who thought they owned the world. He had run into his share of those on the street. He downed his bourbon, hoping it would change what Chief Whitt was saying.

Brian, I know it sounds like baby-sitting, but you’ll have the authority to arrest. You’ll be the security expert for the district and you’ll be the DARE officer as well. Just think of it as another way to fight drugs,” Whitt said as he picked up his glass of bourbon. Brian refilled his own glass.

About a half an hour later, Brian headed home to an empty house.

Brian climbed out of the bed. His bedroom wasn’t a place of comfort; it was a reminder of Olivia; from the rose-colored comforter that he had thrown on the floor to the pink and yellow curtains that hung on the window. He walked over to the window and snatched the curtains down, then opened the window to let in some fresh air. The lingering aroma of Olivia’s signature scent was overpowering this morning. He stalked out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, where he grabbed a huge black trash bag. Walking back into the bedroom, he began throwing away everything that reminded him of Olivia—the curtains, the comforter, and half-empty bottles of perfume that she’d left on the dresser. Brian picked up a picture that they’d had taken on their third wedding anniversary. They had decided to spend the weekend at Myrtle Beach. He looked at his wife’s oval-shaped face. She was smiling as he held her. Two days after they returned from the trip, Olivia found out that she was pregnant. She’d had a miscarriage, though. And things changed in their marriage. Brian and Olivia didn’t talk about the loss of the baby and there was some distance between them.

A year later, she had Mickey. Looking back, he could see that after their son was born, the rift between then grew wider.

When Mickey was two years old, Brian and Olivia had had a huge fight.

I’m sick of being stuck here with the baby all the time. You never make time for me, Brian. What happened to the way we used to be?” she’d yelled as Brian walked in the door from patrol one day.

Olivia, calm down. Why don’t we put Mickey in day care and you take that time—”

To what? Iron your uniforms; cook your lunch and dinner? This isn’t what marriage is supposed to be. Why do you get your dream and I get stuck with the kid?” Olivia had slammed out of the house, the first of many temper tantrums she would throw before leaving.

I should have fought for my marriage. I don’t want my son to have two houses, two bedrooms and two sets of toys. That’s not how family is supposed to work.

Brian dragged the bag into the bathroom, and then proceeded to rip the taupe and mauve shower curtain off the silver rings and toss out Olivia’s cold cream, lipsticks, old birth control pills, and razors. Then he walked back into the bedroom, making sure he had all traces of her out of his space. All at once, the sound of screeching brakes caught his attention. Brian watched as a cherry red convertible Mustang and a Ryder truck pulled up in front of Mrs. Anderson’s rental house. He drank in the image of the woman emerging from the car, noting her long lean legs and the short jean shorts that fit like a second skin, the white tank top that clung to her breasts. She slammed the door of her car and turned to the thick brother that had gotten out of the truck. Brian assumed that they were the new couple moving into Tamara Anderson’s house.

Since March, five people had lived in that house. Most of the people had been quiet, but there was one resident who Brian arrested for smoking marijuana. He assured Mrs. Anderson that he would watch her property for her, but he also told her that she should screen her residents before allowing them to move in. Turning away from the window, he grabbed the full trash bag, and then slipped his feet into a pair of black leather slippers before heading outside to the trashcan.

Where’s that damned woman?” the woman standing next to the Mustang exclaimed. “It’s entirely too hot for this crap.”

Brian cast a contemptuous glance her way. Her voice sounded the way he’d always imagined the cry of a mythic banshee. She must be a Burger King woman. She wants it her way, right away. What a shrew.

Excuse me,” the man said to Brian. “Have you seen the woman who owns this house?”

Brian shrugged his shoulders. “Mrs. Anderson doesn’t usually get out of church until two or three.”

Damn it,” the woman shrieked. “What am I supposed to do? Bake in the sun?”

Brian shuddered inwardly and felt sorry for big man. But he wasn’t getting involved in their drama; he had his own worries. He walked back into his house and continued purging his life of Olivia. He took down the painting she’d purchased at the flea market. It depicted a man, woman and child, who were supposed to be representative of their family. What a fucking joke. He threw away all of the angel figurines that Olivia had collected over the years. Brian would have taken the canary yellow drapes down, but then his neighbors would be able to see directly into his house. But they wouldn’t see much. Brian’s days and nights were lonely. He hadn’t felt the touch of a woman in months. Even before Olivia walked out on him, she hadn’t allowed him to touch her, kiss her or make love to her. Brian yearned for the touch of woman, to feel soft lips against his, to feel a soft body in his arms, the swell of full breasts against his chest. He shook his head to clear away the lustful thoughts. All he needed to do was get her things out of the house and focus on his new assignment and his son. A couple of cold showers would clear up everything else.



Paige and Patrick sat on the steps of the house. “You’re starting already. You know that man heard your potty mouth,” he said.

She shrugged her shoulders. “She said she would be here by now.”

I hope she takes you to church one Sunday, because you need a little Jesus in your life,” Patrick said as he touched her forehead like a TV evangelist saving a soul.

Stop it.” Paige swatted his hand away. A few moments later, a long yellow Cadillac pulled in front of the house. The driver’s side door opened and a broad woman, dressed in a lime green dress and a canary yellow and lime hat with several feathers sticking out of it, got out and walked over to Paige and Patrick. She reminded Paige of Miss Piggy. She waddled instead of walked. Turning away quickly, she stifled a laugh.

Well, good afternoon,” Mrs. Anderson said. 


Paige stood up and extended her hand. “Hi.”


You must be Paige. I thought you were moving in alone. I don’t ‘low no shacking up in my houses,” Mrs. Anderson said haughtily. “If y’all aren’t married, I can’t let you stay here.”

This is my friend Patrick and he’s just helping me move in,” Paige said, struggling to keep her attitude in check. “I’m going to be living here all alone.”

Mrs. Anderson released a sigh of relief. “Good, ‘cause I know you young people think it’s okay to live with each other, but that goes against God’s word. Now, let’s take a look at the house.”

She walked up to the front door and unlocked it. A musty smell floated out of the house. Paige held her breath as Mrs. Anderson showed her around.

Now this is a nice house. Three bedrooms, spacious kitchen and look at the living room and this bay window. Isn’t it beautiful?”

Paige nodded, her eyes burning from the smell.

Mrs. Anderson looked at Paige and smiled sweetly. “I know I’m not going to have to worry about anything with you. The rent is due the first of the month and I don’t play that late shit, either. The law lives right across the street and I will not hesitate to have your ass arrested.”

Paige fought the urge to roll her eyes. What a hypocrite. She just left church and now she’s cursing like Redd Foxx. She looked at her landlady and pasted a smile on her face.

Mrs. Anderson, I assure you, paying my rent won’t be a problem,” Paige said in the same syrupy tone Mrs. Anderson had used. It was as if the women had drawn battle lines in the sand. Mrs. Anderson took her hat off and patted her flat brown hair.

Well,” she said. “I’ll let you and your friend get back to unpacking.”

Paige flashed a smile and walked her to the front door. Mrs. Anderson handed Paige the keys to the house. “Welcome to Elmore. We’re going to have to worship together one Sunday. My church has bible study every Wednesday night at seven-thirty. There are quite a few single men who attend the bible study.”

We’ll have to see about that,” Paige replied. She wanted to tell Mrs. Anderson that she was a bleeding heart atheist just to see the look of horror that would spread across her wide face. But Paige didn’t want to alienate anyone on her first day in town. Patrick smiled at her when Mrs. Anderson left.

Good job, Paige,” he said. “I just knew you were going to curse that old bat out. Hell, she actually deserved it. Thinking that you and I were a couple, please!”

Shut up,” she replied, then headed outside to begin moving her boxes in. “You should be so lucky.”

A few hours later, Paige had all of her belongings moved into the house and Patrick was taking the truck back to Nashville. She took stock of her surroundings while she sat in the middle of the living room. This is it, she thought. This is the new beginning.