it’s what people said about the Irish in 1860 and the Scandinavians in 1890. It’s what they said about the Jews and the Germans and the Asians when they came here. Yet things somehow always managed to work out.”
“You think we’re racists
and
idiots, then.”
“I think you’re bored. I think that not much happens in a smalltown; there isn’t much to talk about, so you spend all your time talking about this—the Great Immigrant Invasion.”
Okay, that wasn’t very conciliatory, but the mechanic was starting to piss me off with his racist talk. All I wanted was something to eat, not get dragged into his small town squabbles.
He stepped forward. His face went from red to white, his lips tightened over his teeth, his hands were closed and he began rocking back and forth as his eyes darted from my jaw to my stomach to my groin—target glances we call them. I slipped off the stool wishing I had an OC agent, wishing I could Mace the sonuvabitch before he took another step.
The men around him became still. Their eyes looked angry and their faces were rough and tired and disappointed. They seemed poised to take out their frustrations on someone—anyone—and were just waiting for a signal to strike. I was becoming very nervous.
The door to the cafe opened. Officer Mallinger stepped through it. She seemed to understand the situation immediately.
“Brian,” she shouted. “McKenzie.” Using our names, something I was also taught to do at the academy. “Look at me. I said, look at me.”
We looked.
“If you can’t do what you’re about to do in front of me, you better not do it.” The sentence seemed convoluted, but her meaning was clear.
The mechanic said, “He’s an asshole.”
“No law against that, Brian,” Mallinger said. “If there was, I’d have to arrest half the people in town.”
Just like that, the tension in the cafe gave way to words, smirks, glares, and grumbles. I decided Mallinger was very good at her job.
“Are you taking his side?” The mechanic spoke defiantly, but his posture had changed. His hands were in front of his body, palms out, and his head was slightly bowed—signals of submission. “You protecting this shithead?”
“I’m protecting the peace,” Mallinger said. “It’s what they pay me for.”
“Yeah, well, just remember
interim chief
—the job ain’t permanent yet.”
“I know,” Mallinger said. “I’m hoping I’ll have your support and the support of all the rest of you, too”—she gestured at the mechanic’s audience—“when the city council votes next month.”
Mallinger turned away from the crowd and looked at me.
“Come here,” she said.
She sat me down in a booth and leaned in close.
“Chief, huh?” I said.
“Take that stupid grin off your face.”
I stopped smiling.
“Everyone’s watching. Don’t look at them. Look at me. Everyone’s watching. They’re expecting me to tear you a new one because even though Brian’s an immense jerk, he lives in this town and you don’t. Nod your head.”
I nodded.
“Things are volatile enough around here. I got some asshole selling meth to high school kids. I got punks hassling citizens over the color of their skin. Yesterday I got a call to break up a knife fight at the meat plant. Two guys going at each other with these huge boning knives. Turned out they were fighting over a woman, but one was Hispanic and the other was white, so now it’s a racial issue. I don’t need this on top of it. I don’t need riots in the Rainbow Cafe. Nod your head.”
I nodded.
“Do you have business in Victoria?”
“Yes.”
“Then why don’t you get up, pay your tab, and get to it. Nod your head.”
I nodded.
“Go.”
I left the booth and I moved to the cash register. I gave the waitress a twenty and she gave me my change, along with some advice. “Why don’tyou go someplace warm, and I don’t mean California.” Apparently, she didn’t like me. I couldn’t imagine why, unless
“You think we’re racists
and
idiots, then.”
“I think you’re bored. I think that not much happens in a smalltown; there isn’t much to talk about, so you spend all your time talking about this—the Great Immigrant Invasion.”
Okay, that wasn’t very conciliatory, but the mechanic was starting to piss me off with his racist talk. All I wanted was something to eat, not get dragged into his small town squabbles.
He stepped forward. His face went from red to white, his lips tightened over his teeth, his hands were closed and he began rocking back and forth as his eyes darted from my jaw to my stomach to my groin—target glances we call them. I slipped off the stool wishing I had an OC agent, wishing I could Mace the sonuvabitch before he took another step.
The men around him became still. Their eyes looked angry and their faces were rough and tired and disappointed. They seemed poised to take out their frustrations on someone—anyone—and were just waiting for a signal to strike. I was becoming very nervous.
The door to the cafe opened. Officer Mallinger stepped through it. She seemed to understand the situation immediately.
“Brian,” she shouted. “McKenzie.” Using our names, something I was also taught to do at the academy. “Look at me. I said, look at me.”
We looked.
“If you can’t do what you’re about to do in front of me, you better not do it.” The sentence seemed convoluted, but her meaning was clear.
The mechanic said, “He’s an asshole.”
“No law against that, Brian,” Mallinger said. “If there was, I’d have to arrest half the people in town.”
Just like that, the tension in the cafe gave way to words, smirks, glares, and grumbles. I decided Mallinger was very good at her job.
“Are you taking his side?” The mechanic spoke defiantly, but his posture had changed. His hands were in front of his body, palms out, and his head was slightly bowed—signals of submission. “You protecting this shithead?”
“I’m protecting the peace,” Mallinger said. “It’s what they pay me for.”
“Yeah, well, just remember
interim chief
—the job ain’t permanent yet.”
“I know,” Mallinger said. “I’m hoping I’ll have your support and the support of all the rest of you, too”—she gestured at the mechanic’s audience—“when the city council votes next month.”
Mallinger turned away from the crowd and looked at me.
“Come here,” she said.
She sat me down in a booth and leaned in close.
“Chief, huh?” I said.
“Take that stupid grin off your face.”
I stopped smiling.
“Everyone’s watching. Don’t look at them. Look at me. Everyone’s watching. They’re expecting me to tear you a new one because even though Brian’s an immense jerk, he lives in this town and you don’t. Nod your head.”
I nodded.
“Things are volatile enough around here. I got some asshole selling meth to high school kids. I got punks hassling citizens over the color of their skin. Yesterday I got a call to break up a knife fight at the meat plant. Two guys going at each other with these huge boning knives. Turned out they were fighting over a woman, but one was Hispanic and the other was white, so now it’s a racial issue. I don’t need this on top of it. I don’t need riots in the Rainbow Cafe. Nod your head.”
I nodded.
“Do you have business in Victoria?”
“Yes.”
“Then why don’t you get up, pay your tab, and get to it. Nod your head.”
I nodded.
“Go.”
I left the booth and I moved to the cash register. I gave the waitress a twenty and she gave me my change, along with some advice. “Why don’tyou go someplace warm, and I don’t mean California.” Apparently, she didn’t like me. I couldn’t imagine why, unless
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