TWO HOURS LATER, I turned the patrol car down Bullis Road from Century, and half a block after that, turned into the Lynwood Station entrance. Neither of us spoke on the drive back. All the emotions of the evening had caught up to us and smothered any conscious thought that didn’t deal with injustice on the street and the soon-to-be loss of our heated love affair. I steered around back and parked in the unit’s slot.
We grabbed all of our gear. Sometimes the watch commander making out the watch list kept the overtime crew in the same car, but more often than not, they wouldn’t notice that the same crew was staying over, so then we’d have to change units. I didn’t mind. Hopefully, we’d get assigned a newer car, like a Chevy Malibu, which, unlike the big Dodge Diplomats, didn’t stall out when you made a sharp left turn at high speed.
We carried our war bags down the stairs into the basement briefing room, where the graveyard shift had started to trickle in from the locker room.
Good Johnson sat at the briefing table and smiled that shit-eating grin of his when he saw Sonja come in. “Hey, there she is, Lynwood’s newest chrome-plated mama. What’s it like ta burn a little coal?”
Sonja dropped her war bag, her eyes going large, her mouth sagging open.
Too much had happened in the last three hours that had stretched my emotions beyond their tensile strength. And now he’d just insulted the woman I loved. I dropped my bag, my hands turning to fists. I took short deliberate steps around the table and headed toward Good.
The other deputies jumped up from the table and stood back, some murmuring, “Oh, shit,” and “Good, you done fucked the pooch this time.”
Good still grinned but with less confidence. He stood, knocking his chair back, and said, “Don’t worry, boys, this smoke doesn’t have the balls to go head to head with ol’ Black Bart Johnson.”
I didn’t slow and kept moving right at him. He lost his grin, backed up to the wall, and let his hand drop to the handle of his service revolver in his holster. I stopped, my chest six inches from his, my face looking down at him, his breath sweet with Red Man chewing tobacco, his eyes a little wider with fear. I hesitated, scared of my feelings or the lack of restraint present. I double-checked my “give-a-shit” meter and found nothing left. He mistook my hesitation for fear, a big mistake.
Good’s grim expression slowly turned back to his white-trash smile. “Cole just told me I’m getting her at the end of the month. Don’t worry, Kimosabe, I won’t touch her. I’m not gonna dip into something contaminated by some nig—”
I snapped. My hand shot out and grabbed him by the throat. I lifted until his feet came off the ground. I moved my face to inches away from his. His face bloated with red, his eyes bulged. I didn’t see it, but I sensed him going for his gun.
This dumbass thought he could get away with shooting a fellow deputy in the Sheriff’s station. With my free hand, I grabbed at his and found another hand already there. Sonja had moved in close and had slammed her hand on top of Good’s so he couldn’t throw down on me. Her teeth clenched, she whispered, “Go ahead, Bruno, pinch this peckerwood’s head off. Pinch the son of a bitch’s head right off.”
Good’s eyes went wide with fear as he realized this was for real. He’d pushed too far.
I looked down at Sonja, her words getting through to my out-of-control violence center.
Just then Sergeant Cole walked into the briefing room carrying the briefing board. He took in the entire scene in a fraction of a second, and from his expression, he knew exactly what had transpired. “Bruno, quit fucking around and take your seat.”
I let go of Good. He slid down almost to the floor before he caught his balance. He coughed and sputtered as he tried to get his breath back. “You see that?” He gulped for more air. “You all saw that, didn’t you? I . . . I want him arrested. This . . . this deputy attacked me and I want his black ass back in that jail right fucking now.”
Cole took his position at the head of the table. “Sit down, Good.”
With one hand at his throat, Good slapped the table. “No, sir, I won’t. You saw it. You saw how he assaulted me. I want satisfaction.”
Cole stood up. “I didn’t see a thing.” He looked to the other deputies, who tried to cover their smiles. “Anybody else here see anything?”
Everyone shook their heads.
Cole pointed to the back door. “Bruno, outside now.”
I moved to the back door with Sonja in tow. Cole came around the table to follow. He held up his hand to Sonja and said, “Not you.”
She opened her mouth to protest. I shook my head at her. She stopped and watched us exit.
Outside in the stairwell that led up to the parking lot, Cole closed the door and lowered his voice. “Listen, I don’t care if you’re bangin’ Kowalski, I don’t. It’s not the smartest idea, but I truly don’t care. I think the fraternizing policy is illegal, and if someone takes it to task, they’ll win hands down. But you and I both know how dangerous working the street is with a partner that you have a . . . ah . . . special relationship with. Especially at this station.”
I wanted to deny it but thought too much of Cole to blow smoke. He held up his hand to silence me.
“The cycle change is in a week. I’m going to change you and Kowalski out then, no arguments.”
That cut Sonja’s time in my car a week shorter than what Carr had said.
“Bruno? You listening to me?”
“Yeah, Sarge,” I said. “I’m sorry about what happened in there. I just sort of snapped.”
Cole waved his hand. “Jesus, don’t let that sorry sack of shit get the better of you. Now he’s really going to be gunnin’ for you. You know what I mean?”
I nodded. I didn’t care about Good and what he represented. After I calmed down, I would care even less. Sonja returned to the foremost problem at hand. I didn’t want to lose her.
Cole put his hand on the door. “Keep your thing with Kowalski on the down-low, you understand?”
I nodded.
“I don’t think you do. Don’t let him get any pictures. And you know what I mean.”
“Yes, sir.”
Cole often threw out a saying that, when it came to evidence, “If you don’t have pictures, you don’t have shit.” Meaning that there can be all the rumors and supposition in the world, but without evidence, it never happened.
“Stay out of Good’s way; he’ll ruin your career.”
We went back inside to start briefing.
I sat across from Good and glared at him until he looked away. He didn’t make eye contact the rest of the briefing. Cole read the briefing board. His words went off to another place and never penetrated the funk that clouded all other thought. And the sad part, the dangerous part, was that I needed to listen to be prepared for what waited out there on the street.
I looked over at Sonja and my heart skipped several beats.
I couldn’t work that way, not safely. And worse, much worse, was that she just didn’t understand how bad the white on black would be, the pain she’d go through the rest of her life. We’d caught just a small glimpse of what the future would have in store with the likes of Good Johnson.
If we had children, the ridicule, the way they would be ostracized, would be heart-wrenching, and we’d only be able to stand by and watch. I thought of myself as a strong man, but I couldn’t handle that. I’d end up hurting someone and going off to prison.
I’d have to break it off with Sonja. I didn’t have a choice, not if I wanted to continue to be a deputy sheriff for the Los Angles County Sheriff’s Department. Not if I wanted her to have a chance at a normal life.
I’d tell her tonight after shift.