dude, Will. Letting me have a beer, not even ragging my ass about the pot.”
He was trying to get a rise, but Will remembered being that age, when small things loomed so huge, when a young man’s pride was everything.
“Come on, John,” he said gently. “That was a long time ago. Your mother and I were concerned for your well-being, doing the whole parent thing. You’ll be there someday.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I guess you heard about Kristen Gruber.”
“Yeah.”
“You remember meeting her?” Will had taken John to the party thrown by the show’s producers to mark the completion of filming for the first season of LadyCops: Cincinnati . It was the last time Will had attempted to draw John out of his shyness. Kristen had worn one of those little black dresses that night.
“I remember.”
“I’m the lead detective on the case.”
“Back in homicide? Good for you,” John said.
They fell into silence and Will’s mind was back on the case. Henderson had taken her evidence back to Kentucky and Will had stopped by a Skyline Chili to grab a late dinner and update the online police blotter. The Enquirer’s Web site had a long story about Kristen, but also another one about a double-homicide on the Miami University campus. A suspect was in custody and a knife had been used in the attack. He made a mental note to call the police in Oxford in the morning.
“It’s really bad,” John said in a low voice. “Her being killed.”
“Yes.” Will never talked about the ugly details of his work with his family.
“So you like doing the whole TV thing? ‘Police spokesman.’ You’re a celebrity.”
“Not really. It’s the job they let me do. It’s not like I can chase the bad guys any more. So I’m grateful for it.” Will shook his right leg and wondered why John was there. He hadn’t seen him in months. Coming by to check on him was a mature thing. That was good. Will set aside his suspicious cop thoughts, looked into the lights of the Kroger Building, and let his mind swim across memories of Cheryl Beth.
“So are you seeing anybody?” he asked.
John started to speak but only shook his head. Then: “I’ve tried to do scamming, but the girls don’t really go for me. They, like, want to be friends. Not friends with benefits, you know? Like ‘friends’ means get lost. Don’t want to dance with no pants. They save that for the dangerous ones, the alpha dudes. Then they complain because they turn out to be pricks.”
“I’ve been there,” Will said, wondering what “scamming” meant. “At your age. It’ll change.”
“I don’t know.” John chugged the beer and put his feet up on the railing. Metal clattered onto the floor. It was a folding knife.
John scrambled to retrieve it and slipped it back in his pants pocket.
“Why are you carrying a knife?”
“Because.”
Will waited.
“Things are dangerous in this city,” John said.
“Make sure it’s not used on you. And make sure you tell a police officer you have it if he ever starts to search you.”
“Yes, sir,” he said, with sarcastic emphasis.
“Relax, John. I’m not your enemy.”
John sat upright and fiddled with his pants. “Check this out, Will. Now that you’re cool and all…”
John unzipped his pants and pulled out his penis. Even in the ambient light, Will could see something like a small carabiner attached to its head. No, it was more like a crescent or curved barbell.
“What is that?”
“They call it a Prince Albert piercing,” John said. “This is what the chicks dig.”
“That looks like it hurts. Can you pee?” Will stopped looking.
“Not a problem,” John said.
“You can put it away now,” Will said, and John did. Will wished he had something stronger than the beer. He started to ask if his mother knew he had done that with the money she gave him, but stopped himself.
They drank in silence until John spoke again.
“How did you handle seeing all those dead
He was trying to get a rise, but Will remembered being that age, when small things loomed so huge, when a young man’s pride was everything.
“Come on, John,” he said gently. “That was a long time ago. Your mother and I were concerned for your well-being, doing the whole parent thing. You’ll be there someday.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I guess you heard about Kristen Gruber.”
“Yeah.”
“You remember meeting her?” Will had taken John to the party thrown by the show’s producers to mark the completion of filming for the first season of LadyCops: Cincinnati . It was the last time Will had attempted to draw John out of his shyness. Kristen had worn one of those little black dresses that night.
“I remember.”
“I’m the lead detective on the case.”
“Back in homicide? Good for you,” John said.
They fell into silence and Will’s mind was back on the case. Henderson had taken her evidence back to Kentucky and Will had stopped by a Skyline Chili to grab a late dinner and update the online police blotter. The Enquirer’s Web site had a long story about Kristen, but also another one about a double-homicide on the Miami University campus. A suspect was in custody and a knife had been used in the attack. He made a mental note to call the police in Oxford in the morning.
“It’s really bad,” John said in a low voice. “Her being killed.”
“Yes.” Will never talked about the ugly details of his work with his family.
“So you like doing the whole TV thing? ‘Police spokesman.’ You’re a celebrity.”
“Not really. It’s the job they let me do. It’s not like I can chase the bad guys any more. So I’m grateful for it.” Will shook his right leg and wondered why John was there. He hadn’t seen him in months. Coming by to check on him was a mature thing. That was good. Will set aside his suspicious cop thoughts, looked into the lights of the Kroger Building, and let his mind swim across memories of Cheryl Beth.
“So are you seeing anybody?” he asked.
John started to speak but only shook his head. Then: “I’ve tried to do scamming, but the girls don’t really go for me. They, like, want to be friends. Not friends with benefits, you know? Like ‘friends’ means get lost. Don’t want to dance with no pants. They save that for the dangerous ones, the alpha dudes. Then they complain because they turn out to be pricks.”
“I’ve been there,” Will said, wondering what “scamming” meant. “At your age. It’ll change.”
“I don’t know.” John chugged the beer and put his feet up on the railing. Metal clattered onto the floor. It was a folding knife.
John scrambled to retrieve it and slipped it back in his pants pocket.
“Why are you carrying a knife?”
“Because.”
Will waited.
“Things are dangerous in this city,” John said.
“Make sure it’s not used on you. And make sure you tell a police officer you have it if he ever starts to search you.”
“Yes, sir,” he said, with sarcastic emphasis.
“Relax, John. I’m not your enemy.”
John sat upright and fiddled with his pants. “Check this out, Will. Now that you’re cool and all…”
John unzipped his pants and pulled out his penis. Even in the ambient light, Will could see something like a small carabiner attached to its head. No, it was more like a crescent or curved barbell.
“What is that?”
“They call it a Prince Albert piercing,” John said. “This is what the chicks dig.”
“That looks like it hurts. Can you pee?” Will stopped looking.
“Not a problem,” John said.
“You can put it away now,” Will said, and John did. Will wished he had something stronger than the beer. He started to ask if his mother knew he had done that with the money she gave him, but stopped himself.
They drank in silence until John spoke again.
“How did you handle seeing all those dead
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