I’d love to be able to tell you how exciting the weekend was.
Monday morning I was thwarted from seeing Phoebe Cates undo her red bikini top at a Tuscon IHOP. Why is it that the most indecipherable part of a dream is not why you’re hundreds of miles away from home at a restaurant you don’t frequent re-envisioning an iconic scene from a movie, but how you wake up the moment before it reaches a climax? I laid there in bed wondering if I’d be able to recapture the feel of sticky table and underlying aroma of maple syrup when my cell phone vibrated. It wasn’t mother, who’d similarly not shown much regard for timekeeping Saturday calling from one of the on-board ship phones to tell me what a wonderful time she was having and how much fun this group of South Africans who’d been at the next table over in the dining hall were. The clock said 8:12, and I was unsure for a second, since the window shades were drawn tight as a vampire’s coffin lid. In a few short days, years of discipline and regiment had gone out the window, and my patterns of sleep were now becoming irregular as the twists and turns of my life. Yeah, I’m melodramatic when I’m waking up.
“Sheldon,” the voice questioned. It was a woman’s, and though groggy and thinking of flapjacks I was able to place it.
“Cami. It’s too early. In my life.”
“C’mon, Sheldon, it’s after eight…”
“Yeah,” I interrupted, “but I don’t wake up and go to work anymore. You should know that.”
“Listen, I’m really sorry, okay? I swear I didn’t have anything to do with what happened –“
I cut her off. She sounded sincere and the last thing I wanted to wake up to was the wounded cries of a gazelle.
“Look, I know what I did and I’m taking responsibility for it. Don’t beat yourself up over what happened, because you’ll lose that fight. I ain’t happy about it, but I did what was going to be best for everyone, including myself. Especially myself.” Morals, calibrated…cross that off the day’s checklist. “I hope that’s not why you’re calling,” I added. Because calling me early in the morning for absolution is not a favorite of mine.
“My flight just landed, and I…I just thought I should call. I’ve got some things to work on, but maybe once I get settled we can have dinner.”
“Is that still allowed in your agreement?”
“Dinner?”
“Yep.”
“Of course,” Cami said, “and they don’t care if you and I talk.”
“Hans told me everybody was getting orders not to talk with me.”
She fired back immediately. ”He’s paying homage to you and your defiance by not signing it. But if Mr. Perfect actually read the document, it was just a standard form not to engage a former employee about their discharge or discuss it publicly. They faxed one to me. No biggie.”
“Resignation,” I corrected. “Not a discharge.”
“Sure, resignation…on a business level, we’re just being marched in formation, that’s all. And besides, it’s only the on-airs and the upper management types. There’s nothing the peons can or are going to say. They all got a copy of the company’s press release, and somewhere after the scheduling change of Top Farmers to Tuesdays, there was a couple of sentences noting that in addition to your taped segments, other special presenters were going to be adding to the program, and that you were going to remain on the program in a producer’s capacity.”
It sounded like the story that Jeff gave me, but it didn’t explain why Artie was saying there was a leak. I wanted to see if she had any more insight, but she resumed, “Have you though about what you’re going to do?” And there’s her real interest in meeting up with me.
“I don’t know, let me see what’s on the calendar. Hmmm…looks pretty open for the next year or so.”
“I’m serious, Shel, we’ll have dinner and maybe I can help. It’s the least I can do.”
No, the least you could do was not have your strings pulled by your company and advertisers and unwittingly become their little spy to keep tabs on me and make sure I’m staying below the radar like I promised I would.
“We’ll, you let me know. And those generous folks at CNC can pick up the tab on your expense report. I gotta get back to hash browns at Ridgemont High,” and with that I hung up. But I didn’t get back to it as I’d hoped.
On the refrigerator was a letter that Nell Tanner had sent. Actually sent and not emailed, which was a rare touch of class that distinguished her from the other zero-tolerance, no bullshit ice queens that run companies. It was very business-like in expressing her gratitude for coming down to not only meet with her but also participate in her group evaluation, and that she was looking forward to utilizing my unique observations and style as both a speaker and personality. I stood and looked at it. No, Ms. Theroux, we were not going to be meeting and chatting about the one safe haven I’d found while this shitstorm blew over. Not with you, and not with anybody. The cleanest way to make this break and serve my time was to just knuckle down and do it.
Monday morning I was thwarted from seeing Phoebe Cates undo her red bikini top at a Tuscon IHOP. Why is it that the most indecipherable part of a dream is not why you’re hundreds of miles away from home at a restaurant you don’t frequent re-envisioning an iconic scene from a movie, but how you wake up the moment before it reaches a climax? I laid there in bed wondering if I’d be able to recapture the feel of sticky table and underlying aroma of maple syrup when my cell phone vibrated. It wasn’t mother, who’d similarly not shown much regard for timekeeping Saturday calling from one of the on-board ship phones to tell me what a wonderful time she was having and how much fun this group of South Africans who’d been at the next table over in the dining hall were. The clock said 8:12, and I was unsure for a second, since the window shades were drawn tight as a vampire’s coffin lid. In a few short days, years of discipline and regiment had gone out the window, and my patterns of sleep were now becoming irregular as the twists and turns of my life. Yeah, I’m melodramatic when I’m waking up.
“Sheldon,” the voice questioned. It was a woman’s, and though groggy and thinking of flapjacks I was able to place it.
“Cami. It’s too early. In my life.”
“C’mon, Sheldon, it’s after eight…”
“Yeah,” I interrupted, “but I don’t wake up and go to work anymore. You should know that.”
“Listen, I’m really sorry, okay? I swear I didn’t have anything to do with what happened –“
I cut her off. She sounded sincere and the last thing I wanted to wake up to was the wounded cries of a gazelle.
“Look, I know what I did and I’m taking responsibility for it. Don’t beat yourself up over what happened, because you’ll lose that fight. I ain’t happy about it, but I did what was going to be best for everyone, including myself. Especially myself.” Morals, calibrated…cross that off the day’s checklist. “I hope that’s not why you’re calling,” I added. Because calling me early in the morning for absolution is not a favorite of mine.
“My flight just landed, and I…I just thought I should call. I’ve got some things to work on, but maybe once I get settled we can have dinner.”
“Is that still allowed in your agreement?”
“Dinner?”
“Yep.”
“Of course,” Cami said, “and they don’t care if you and I talk.”
“Hans told me everybody was getting orders not to talk with me.”
She fired back immediately. ”He’s paying homage to you and your defiance by not signing it. But if Mr. Perfect actually read the document, it was just a standard form not to engage a former employee about their discharge or discuss it publicly. They faxed one to me. No biggie.”
“Resignation,” I corrected. “Not a discharge.”
“Sure, resignation…on a business level, we’re just being marched in formation, that’s all. And besides, it’s only the on-airs and the upper management types. There’s nothing the peons can or are going to say. They all got a copy of the company’s press release, and somewhere after the scheduling change of Top Farmers to Tuesdays, there was a couple of sentences noting that in addition to your taped segments, other special presenters were going to be adding to the program, and that you were going to remain on the program in a producer’s capacity.”
It sounded like the story that Jeff gave me, but it didn’t explain why Artie was saying there was a leak. I wanted to see if she had any more insight, but she resumed, “Have you though about what you’re going to do?” And there’s her real interest in meeting up with me.
“I don’t know, let me see what’s on the calendar. Hmmm…looks pretty open for the next year or so.”
“I’m serious, Shel, we’ll have dinner and maybe I can help. It’s the least I can do.”
No, the least you could do was not have your strings pulled by your company and advertisers and unwittingly become their little spy to keep tabs on me and make sure I’m staying below the radar like I promised I would.
“We’ll, you let me know. And those generous folks at CNC can pick up the tab on your expense report. I gotta get back to hash browns at Ridgemont High,” and with that I hung up. But I didn’t get back to it as I’d hoped.
On the refrigerator was a letter that Nell Tanner had sent. Actually sent and not emailed, which was a rare touch of class that distinguished her from the other zero-tolerance, no bullshit ice queens that run companies. It was very business-like in expressing her gratitude for coming down to not only meet with her but also participate in her group evaluation, and that she was looking forward to utilizing my unique observations and style as both a speaker and personality. I stood and looked at it. No, Ms. Theroux, we were not going to be meeting and chatting about the one safe haven I’d found while this shitstorm blew over. Not with you, and not with anybody. The cleanest way to make this break and serve my time was to just knuckle down and do it.
---
Looking online, I saw the same PR comment in Variety and the Hollywood Reporter, but neither had them on the main page. I had to do a search on them to find links to the few lines about the show, and I doubted that they even made the print editions. I called Fran to harass him, but mostly with appreciation.
“She didn’t eat you alive,” he laughed.
“No, but the bones of her past meals where still in her lair. I must have arrived after one of her feedings.”
“Can you keep it together while the dust settles?”
“It’s a lot of dust, but yeah.”
“No,” Fran said, “I mean, can you handle Nell and how she does things?”
“You mean, can I keep from fucking this up?”
“Well…yeah.”
“I’m going to take it a day at a time, and try to keep from ruining it. And I really appreciate you getting me in touch with Nell.”
“It’s the least I could do. You’ve been there for me.”
“Thanks,” I said. “Can you do me a small favor. Just keep this gig with Nell quiet. Cami called this morning and was trying to get a bead on what I was doing. They’re watching to see if I slip up. If I can keep my mouth from moving faster than my brain.”
“No problem, amigo. I got a call from that snake in HR, what’s her name – Connie?”
“Celine,” I corrected him.
“Right, Celine. She just had a few questions and wanted to see what I knew about what happened. More to make sure I wasn’t going to say anything in case I was asked.”
“What’d you tell her?”
“Nothing…I could tell she was fishing. But she did say something weird, not right out, but I picked up on it. She hinted that if I didn’t know anything it would be best not to take pains and get involved.”
“That sounds like her. Only she would say ‘take pains’,” I agreed.
“Right, but she added that it would not make the company happy, and even though I was not actively employed, I was still receiving benefits…”
“That fucking bitch!”
“I know!”
I wrapped up the call quickly and rang Artie, just to get confirmation of the suspicions that had been building. He was not as excited or stressed by the conversation as had been the case the last few times.
“Sheldon, my friend,” he started in the slimy tone that all agents have, “is it already time?”
“You’d know. If there was a second of opportunity for you to have to strike a deal, I’d expect it was already being made.”
“Listen, unless you’ve got a new proposition or idea, I think we’re waiting it out. I don’t know what else to say.”
It was still before his afternoon bowel movement, which he famously broke any and all commitments to keep scheduled. Aside from my calls, I can only imagine how many other clients and deals were brokered while he was in the bathroom. But right now he was far too relaxed.
“What happened to all that buzz and chatter from the other nets?”
“There nothing we can do about that. You said yourself –“
“I know what I said, Artie,” I redirected our conversation. “But I want to talk about what you said. Where’s all my heat?”
“It, ah…cooled off.”
“And this leak you mentioned?”
“It dried up, I guess.”
“Thanks, Artie. You’re a real straight shooter,” I said with a cream filled center of sarcasm. I wasn’t trying to take it out on him because I was seeing what was happening, but it still got me fired up.
“Uh, yeah…you take care Sheldon.”
---
I hadn’t planed on heading back over to CNC, but I’d called Jeff three times since my morning rounds and each time I got a different bullshit answer as to what he busy doing. I was outside the building and called one last time. And this time it wasn’t to Jeff. It was to Mason Burnett.
“Mason, how are you, it’s Sheldon?”
“Hi, Sheldon. Why are you calling?” He sounded confused, which I liked. It’s always to your advantage when you confuse and disorient an adversary.
“Well, you see, I’ve been having trouble getting in touch with my buddy Jeff. Normally, I’d just cruise down the hall and pop into his office, but we both know that I’m not that much of a health nut to start to take up walking. And for some reason, I just can’t seem to get him on the phone. But lucky for me, I was able to get though all the directories and assistants and barriers and get you on the line. It’s flattering to think that I could still get somebody important on the phone even after I’d left.”
“What do you want, Sheldon,” Mason said, showing impatience with my grandstanding.
“Get him on the phone and get him to call me on my cell in the next five minutes, or in precisely three hundred and one seconds you’re going to find out what I loose cannon I can become.”
“I thought this was taken care of Sheldon. Don’t forget our agreement. Our signed agreement.”
“Listen, Mason. It’s very clear how things can play out. But if you and Ephimria and CNC and whoever else don’t take your finger off my trigger, I got a whole new scenario for you, and it is not going to be as nice and tidy as we made it. The way it should be. Five minutes.”
I hung up and felt a wave of adrenaline. Goddamn that was some gangster movie shit! I hoped that my tough guy routine was going to spark a little fear in Mason, even if my threats were far from likely to be carried out. He didn’t know me well enough to see if I was full of shit or a psycho, but my reputation was clearly going to get play. If he waited me out, I’d be screwed.
My phone rang just shy of four minutes later.
“Sheldon, what the fuck are you doing?”
“Thanks for taking my call, Jeff. I should ask you the same thing.”
“Mason just tore me a new asshole!”
“You in your office? Come down to the corner so we can talk, or Mason is going to really learn the meaning of torn assholes.” I realized that sometimes, sounding macho also sounds incredibly gay.
“I’m coming down, Shel, but this is only because it’s you.”
It didn’t take too long for him, and I figured Jeff must have ran down a few flights of stairs to get here so quickly.
“You want a hog dog,” I asked pointing to the cart by the street. Jeff was a little out of breath, and must have wondering why I was acting so flippant.
“Shel, everything was taken care of…what are you up to?
“We’ve been friends for a long time, and I hate to think that this is going to be the thing that ruins it,” I told him. “Don’t give me any bullshit. Don’t lie to me. Don’t read from the corporate cue cards. Just be honest with me and we’ll see if there’s a problem here.”
He looked at me and nodded, waiting to see what commotion I was going to incite.
“I told you, and I told those fuckers that I was going to play ball and stick to my word. So why is it one day I have Artie complaining like a eunuch getting a lap dance and then the next pretending the whole thing never happened?”
“What?”
"There was a leak, the story getting out that I was up for grabs. Gonna make a big splash, and then…nothing. Artie didn’t tell me anything. Wouldn’t. What do you have to say about it?”
“About Artie?”
“Jeff,” I said sternly, “don’t do this to me. Who plugged the leak? And how’d it get out?”
Jeff didn’t say anything.
“Your rules and procedures harpy is laying into Fran about me, holding his pension and coverage over his head. Having Cami poke around so you can keep tabs on what I’m doing. And yes, the slip that never was with Artie. If you wanna pretend it’s nothing, then keep standing there like a dummy…but you’re here, so let’s go.”
Jeff looked me in the eyes and didn’t break his gaze. “They were just making sure there wasn’t anything that was going to bite them in the ass once you left. The big deal that became nothing – that was a test. They wanted to see if they could contain the story.”
“There was no story.”
“And there is still no story. They put it out there to make sure they could reign it back in. Testing to see how firm their grip was.”
“I told you, I wasn’t going to break our deal. I told them! It was your stupid idea anyway!” I hadn’t realized I was starting to yell, and it only registered in Jeff’s wincing reaction.
“I know. It wasn’t me. I had nothing to do with it. Mason just told me, just now. That’s what happened between when you spoke to him and I called you. Honestly. He said that you called and were acting like you were going to break our deal, which I told him wasn’t like you, and so he said that the company was making sure things on our side were airtight. They were concerned that even if you held up your end – like I told them you would, there could be an issue. I didn’t know about Fran or what they said to Artie. You know that I would have never gone along with those plans. No way.”
I looked at my friend, and felt he was telling the truth. Or at least, his version of the truth with what he knew.
“I’m doing what was asked of me so I don’t become a Mariah, okay,” I told him.
“It’s pariah, Shel. Pariah.”
“No, I mean Mariah. Mariah Carey, like when she and Tommy Mottola divorced. Her career went to shit and it took her years to pick up the pieces. She blamed it on him and his connections to her record labels, and while she chose to make that awful fucking movie Glitter, I do think that it was more ignition than self-combustion that torched her. Her follow up Rainbow was a far better album than Glitter, but it tanked because the corporate big boys wanted to teach her a lesson. I don’t have the pipes or the tits, so I don’t plan to rock the boat, because being out of the game for a year isn’t what I want, but I’ve accepted that it’s how things are going to be. So what you need to do is tell your puppet masters everything is hunky-dory here and that it’s going to stay that way as long as they don’t start shit up.”
“You can’t threaten then Sheldon. They’ll just go on the offensive.”
“They’re the ones making it happen, so now they can hold up their end and let it lie.” I reached into my pant pocket and gave Jeff a flash of silver metal plating. “I recorded this, and you can let them know that,” I said, now flashing the small foam covered bud in my sleeve. “It didn’t take much for me to see what they were doing. Just tell them to stop and everything will go according to plan. You can convince them of that, right? You got me to go along with your scheme to not make waves. Try some of that charm with them.”
I made an exaggerated smile and walked away to punctuate the point, which appeared to settle in. After a couple of paces I turned back around and said, “Give my regards to Laura,” and then continued around the corner to where my car was. Once inside, I pulled the electric razor out of my pocket. Next to it on the passenger seat I put the earbud and mic from my cellphone, pulling the stringy cord from under my sleeve. I palmed my face over the whole situation. I just tricked my friend into intimidating a television network, a foodstuff manufacturer, and media conglomerate into deescalating their cold war against me. And worse, I let it slip that I listen to Mariah Carey.
“Sheldon, what the fuck are you doing?”
“Thanks for taking my call, Jeff. I should ask you the same thing.”
“Mason just tore me a new asshole!”
“You in your office? Come down to the corner so we can talk, or Mason is going to really learn the meaning of torn assholes.” I realized that sometimes, sounding macho also sounds incredibly gay.
“I’m coming down, Shel, but this is only because it’s you.”
It didn’t take too long for him, and I figured Jeff must have ran down a few flights of stairs to get here so quickly.
“You want a hog dog,” I asked pointing to the cart by the street. Jeff was a little out of breath, and must have wondering why I was acting so flippant.
“Shel, everything was taken care of…what are you up to?
“We’ve been friends for a long time, and I hate to think that this is going to be the thing that ruins it,” I told him. “Don’t give me any bullshit. Don’t lie to me. Don’t read from the corporate cue cards. Just be honest with me and we’ll see if there’s a problem here.”
He looked at me and nodded, waiting to see what commotion I was going to incite.
“I told you, and I told those fuckers that I was going to play ball and stick to my word. So why is it one day I have Artie complaining like a eunuch getting a lap dance and then the next pretending the whole thing never happened?”
“What?”
"There was a leak, the story getting out that I was up for grabs. Gonna make a big splash, and then…nothing. Artie didn’t tell me anything. Wouldn’t. What do you have to say about it?”
“About Artie?”
“Jeff,” I said sternly, “don’t do this to me. Who plugged the leak? And how’d it get out?”
Jeff didn’t say anything.
“Your rules and procedures harpy is laying into Fran about me, holding his pension and coverage over his head. Having Cami poke around so you can keep tabs on what I’m doing. And yes, the slip that never was with Artie. If you wanna pretend it’s nothing, then keep standing there like a dummy…but you’re here, so let’s go.”
Jeff looked me in the eyes and didn’t break his gaze. “They were just making sure there wasn’t anything that was going to bite them in the ass once you left. The big deal that became nothing – that was a test. They wanted to see if they could contain the story.”
“There was no story.”
“And there is still no story. They put it out there to make sure they could reign it back in. Testing to see how firm their grip was.”
“I told you, I wasn’t going to break our deal. I told them! It was your stupid idea anyway!” I hadn’t realized I was starting to yell, and it only registered in Jeff’s wincing reaction.
“I know. It wasn’t me. I had nothing to do with it. Mason just told me, just now. That’s what happened between when you spoke to him and I called you. Honestly. He said that you called and were acting like you were going to break our deal, which I told him wasn’t like you, and so he said that the company was making sure things on our side were airtight. They were concerned that even if you held up your end – like I told them you would, there could be an issue. I didn’t know about Fran or what they said to Artie. You know that I would have never gone along with those plans. No way.”
I looked at my friend, and felt he was telling the truth. Or at least, his version of the truth with what he knew.
“I’m doing what was asked of me so I don’t become a Mariah, okay,” I told him.
“It’s pariah, Shel. Pariah.”
“No, I mean Mariah. Mariah Carey, like when she and Tommy Mottola divorced. Her career went to shit and it took her years to pick up the pieces. She blamed it on him and his connections to her record labels, and while she chose to make that awful fucking movie Glitter, I do think that it was more ignition than self-combustion that torched her. Her follow up Rainbow was a far better album than Glitter, but it tanked because the corporate big boys wanted to teach her a lesson. I don’t have the pipes or the tits, so I don’t plan to rock the boat, because being out of the game for a year isn’t what I want, but I’ve accepted that it’s how things are going to be. So what you need to do is tell your puppet masters everything is hunky-dory here and that it’s going to stay that way as long as they don’t start shit up.”
“You can’t threaten then Sheldon. They’ll just go on the offensive.”
“They’re the ones making it happen, so now they can hold up their end and let it lie.” I reached into my pant pocket and gave Jeff a flash of silver metal plating. “I recorded this, and you can let them know that,” I said, now flashing the small foam covered bud in my sleeve. “It didn’t take much for me to see what they were doing. Just tell them to stop and everything will go according to plan. You can convince them of that, right? You got me to go along with your scheme to not make waves. Try some of that charm with them.”
I made an exaggerated smile and walked away to punctuate the point, which appeared to settle in. After a couple of paces I turned back around and said, “Give my regards to Laura,” and then continued around the corner to where my car was. Once inside, I pulled the electric razor out of my pocket. Next to it on the passenger seat I put the earbud and mic from my cellphone, pulling the stringy cord from under my sleeve. I palmed my face over the whole situation. I just tricked my friend into intimidating a television network, a foodstuff manufacturer, and media conglomerate into deescalating their cold war against me. And worse, I let it slip that I listen to Mariah Carey.
---
When I got home, there was a police car parked in front of the building, and I figured I’d fucked up royally with my stunt with Jeff. 'Officer, this man made a bomb threat on our building; he’s a disgruntled former employee and he’s got child pornography that we show was sent and received while he was working for us. Please arrest him.' Damn it, I really wanted to savor what I thought was a victory! And have lunch.
I saw the blue uniform standing by my front door. “Afternoon, officer,” I tried say as non-confrontationally as possible.
“Hello, Sheldon,” the officer smiled as said as she turned to me.
“How do you know –“
“”Didn’t you get the message? Ms. Tanner wanted me to pick you up and take you with me to my assignment.”
“Ah, no…nobody called.” I was happy I wasn’t under arrest, but was off-kilter by the sudden plans.
“Listen, why don’t you take a moment to get composed, and then we’ll go. I’ll call Peter and remind him what his job is.”
“Ah, thanks Officer –“
“Diaz,” she said turning the nameplate on her pocket. “Carla, though. You can call me Carla.”
“Come in, Carla. Let me put on a fresh shirt.”
She sat on the couch which I fished out a clean shirt in the bedroom, a simple blue oxford to go with the black denim jeans. My phone beeped and a text message registered. It was from Jeff, and read: sorry again. spoke w/ Mason etc. this issue is closed. our agreement holds. I sat on the bed for a moment relieved I wouldn’t have to deal with it again.
“So,” I called out from the back, “what’s this assignment?”
“Grade school,” Carla said. “Standard community interfacing. But I do some work with Ms. Tanner too, and the department feels it’s a good PR situation, so I can use a cruiser and my uni if she wants me too. But today is department business, and Ms. Tanner already cleared a civilian with my watch commander.”
“So, you’re going to tell kids to do well in school and say no to drugs.”
“Something like that, and answer their questions. It’s supposed to be educational.”
“I can see that,” I said as I came out. “I’m ready.”
“Yeah, pay attention and you’ll learn a lot.”
“Me?”
“Yeah, you. I told you it was supposed to be educational. Besides, you’re going to get your turn soon. Older kids. Fullerton Union high school, if I heard Sunday correctly.”
Great. Me versus hormone-addled teens. I hope I get to carry a gun too.
“Hello, Sheldon,” the officer smiled as said as she turned to me.
“How do you know –“
“”Didn’t you get the message? Ms. Tanner wanted me to pick you up and take you with me to my assignment.”
“Ah, no…nobody called.” I was happy I wasn’t under arrest, but was off-kilter by the sudden plans.
“Listen, why don’t you take a moment to get composed, and then we’ll go. I’ll call Peter and remind him what his job is.”
“Ah, thanks Officer –“
“Diaz,” she said turning the nameplate on her pocket. “Carla, though. You can call me Carla.”
“Come in, Carla. Let me put on a fresh shirt.”
She sat on the couch which I fished out a clean shirt in the bedroom, a simple blue oxford to go with the black denim jeans. My phone beeped and a text message registered. It was from Jeff, and read: sorry again. spoke w/ Mason etc. this issue is closed. our agreement holds. I sat on the bed for a moment relieved I wouldn’t have to deal with it again.
“So,” I called out from the back, “what’s this assignment?”
“Grade school,” Carla said. “Standard community interfacing. But I do some work with Ms. Tanner too, and the department feels it’s a good PR situation, so I can use a cruiser and my uni if she wants me too. But today is department business, and Ms. Tanner already cleared a civilian with my watch commander.”
“So, you’re going to tell kids to do well in school and say no to drugs.”
“Something like that, and answer their questions. It’s supposed to be educational.”
“I can see that,” I said as I came out. “I’m ready.”
“Yeah, pay attention and you’ll learn a lot.”
“Me?”
“Yeah, you. I told you it was supposed to be educational. Besides, you’re going to get your turn soon. Older kids. Fullerton Union high school, if I heard Sunday correctly.”
Great. Me versus hormone-addled teens. I hope I get to carry a gun too.
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