Merrick

Merrick came out of the hospital, like a demented bull. He’d managed to persuade his

wife that he needed some quiet time, walk The Jersey Shore, just to be grateful he was

ok.

What a crock he thought, I never walked the damn shore in my life and didn’t see it

happening anytime soon. Mostly, he wanted two things.

A drink.

To crack Ryan’s fool head.

Maybe three as he’d like to repeat Number two, a lot.Only one place really to go, once

a cop, you got hit, you went to a cop bar. Civilians, even his poor wife, they didn’t

really get it. Why should they, they didn’t live in the expectation of a bullet. Hailed a cab,

headed for Charley’s bar.

He tipped the driver a few bucks and the guy said

‘Have a good one.’

He sure as hell meant to try.

He’d no sooner walked in the door than Charlie was over, going

‘Hey hey, the hero arrives.’

And maneuvered Merrick to a corner booth, said

‘Sit your good self down, take a load off and I’ll go get us some righteous drinks.’

Merrick felt he’d arrived in safe harbor. Leaned his head back against the leather

upholstery, let his breath out. Never realized he’d been holding it so long. Maybe since he

got shot.

Charley was back, Bottle of Jameson and two pints of ice cold beer. Merrick said

‘Fuck, that looks good.’

Charley said

‘Knock the head off the brew.’

He did and then Charley unscrewed the cap on the Jay, poured a serious amount in to the

glass, said

‘Instant boilermaker.’

He did the same for his own then raised the new drink, said

‘To long life.’

‘Amen.’

Charley was a barman, had been a cop, knew the value of the first sacred silence, as you

paid homage to the drinks. When they’d gotten on the other side of that, least quarter of

the way, Charley asked

‘Where’s the Irish whiz kid?’

Merrick sighed and Charley went

‘Oh?’

Merrick launched, the Jameson aiding the flow of his bile. Put it all out there except the

part about the credit card. He didn’t want the kid to look that smart so never mentioned

Mr’s.Trent, then when he wound down, had a moment’s doubt, asked

‘Charley, this is all between us, right?’

Charley gave him a playful punch to the shoulder, said

‘Like Church.’

Fresh round of drinks and Charley said

‘Twenty years on the job, I never got shot, yah believe it?’

Merrick, bitterly said

‘Yeah? Don’t go starting now.’

Charley hesitated and Merrick caught it, said

‘Go on buddy, it’s ok, you can ask?’

Charley lifted his glass, took a hefty swallow, then

‘I always wondered about it, you know? You have to, everyday you’re out there, chances

are. Mostly I hoped, Jesus, I hope I don’t take it in the balls.’

Merrick laughed, the Jay hitting, said

‘That would not be good.’

They had a comfortable silence for a bit then Merrick said, knowing he was answering

the real question,

‘It’s like getting hit by a two by four, knocks you on your ass, you can’t breath and

you’re thinking, Motherfuck, I got shot.’

Charley asked

‘So, you going to wrap this up, the case I mean, seems solid?’

Merrick made a decision that would haunt him all his days. Could call it the booze, anger,

post traumatic stress. But the truth was, he wanted to be back in the driver seat, he would

decide when they moved on the perp.

He said

‘I’m going to wait two days, let Ryan stew and make sure we’ve got it right. Don’t want

to go gung ho and then get our asses handed to us.’

Charley asked

‘You still following The Jets?’

Merrick mock sighed, said

‘Now that is really green frustration.’

And they got into sports.

The bar got busy, Charley had to go and Merrick waved him away, said

‘Go, earn, shalom.’

Merrick finally got out of there, no sign of Charley to say Thank you, the tab had of

course been paid, he’d left a fifty tip on the table and got a cab to take him home.

He was tired but feeling good, even felt less resentful to Ryan.

The guy would learn.

And who better to teach him?

You got it.