Fisco was at my door.
“When can I see Amelia?” I ask him, hating that we’ve been separated.
“When I left her father’s house, she was falling asleep. It was a flesh wound and will heal nicely. She’s in better shape than you are.”
“Thank God for that. Have a good day, Doc.” I let him out and lock the door behind me, noting that he left the prescription on the table. I tear it up and toss the paper in the trash.
In the seven years I’ve been in law enforcement, I’ve witnessed too many good men fall apart with drugs. It can start as simple as a bottle to dull the pain of a few broken bones. Next thing you know, you’re immune to their potency and looking for something stronger.
I lift the bottle of bourbon from the coffee table, twist the cap, and take a drink. Today was fucked up. I still have to call the bureau and give my statement. I should have done that as soon as I got home, but I need to get my head straight.
When I came on this job, it was to get in good with Evangelista and Sorrentino enough to gather evidence into the bid rigging that was going on in the tristate area. The case kept getting bigger and bigger, and while it feels like it’s over, it’s not.
I still have to turn in Frank Evangelista and Raphael Sorrentino.
She’s going to hate me.
The next drink I take is a double. I slam the bottle on the table and curse myself for getting into this mess.
For the first time in my life, I have something I don’t want to walk away from. But as far as I can see, there’s no way I can stay.
Growing up, I was the star of the town. A high school football star who could drink at fifteen because I knew how to catch a thirty-yard toss into the end zone. My friends and I stole from the drugstore, sped down Main Street, and started fires on abandoned lots. The cops always looked the other way. My grades were shit. My mother was on me to do better, but I didn’t have to. The teachers were gonna pass me, so I could play.
I was on top of the world.
Then, I got into an accident. I was drag-racing on the outskirts of town, being wild and reckless. My car had spun out, and I’d hit another car. The driver’s name was Will, and he was a friend of mine. He broke both legs and spent weeks in the hospital. We brought him cards and wreaths of flowers with wishes to get well. The homecoming game was dedicated to him, and when he came out on the field in his wheelchair and stood up for the first time in months, everyone cheered.
What they didn’t know was, Will was now addicted to pills.
Given to him to dull the pain of his injuries, he had been so determined to walk again that he overextended his dosage, so he could work through the discomfort.
When it came time to graduate, Will never walked. A local dealer had supplied him throughout our senior year. Will had put himself in a coma by prom and was dead by graduation.
While I got my piece of paper for a certificate I’d never earned, all I could think was, Will would be here if it wasn’t for me.
A week after graduation, I went to the alley where dealers were known to hang out. I posed as a junkie, and once I got my baggie and confirmed it was the same motherfucker who had supplied Will with his fix, I beat him to a pulp. A citizen’s arrest with the use of my fists. I left that lowlife down on the ground.
I didn’t think about him again for two years. I went to the same bars, bonfires, and to bed with the same girls. Each night, I’d go home and think there had to be something more. The autobiography I’d read years before sat by my bed. I’d read it over twenty times.
As soon as I had my associate’s degree, I knew life for me hadn’t been the same for a while. I idolized the FBI and undercover agents. It seemed like a cool-as-fuck career, and I wanted to be like that guy I’d read about in the book.
As I drove away from my house, I passed that alleyway one last time and was relieved to see it was empty. There