On The Grind

Chapter 29

Click.

Nothing happened.

I looked into the muzzle of Alonzo's handgun, right into the black eye.

I could smell the oranges and feel the beat of my heart.

A misfire?

Alonzo slowly lowered the gun and just stood there. I didn't know what was happening, didn't know what to expect.

Then a huge smile spread across his round face and he said, "Somebody uncuff him."

Two guys rushed forward, pulled me to my feet and took the handcuffs off, freeing my hands. My knees were shaking. I could barely stand.

"You're no longer on probation," Alonzo announced. "You just became a full-fledged member of the Haven Park PD."

The guys who were standing there all started to applaud.

"You okay?" Alonzo asked, grinning. "A few guys have puked. Larry Miller shit his pants."

I was still trying to absorb it.

"We had to know you were solid," he explained. "Loyalty test. We had to take you right to the edge to be sure." Then he shook his head as he repeated my own words back to me. " Tou can believe me, or you can stick it up your ass.' Beautiful. Best yet."

All the cops gathered around and slapped my back, congratulating me.

Alonzo led me over to his Cadillac Escalade. The private cars of the rest of the day watch were parked in a large dirt clearing. There were no houses or lights visible in any direction. We seemed to be miles from civilization. Somebody opened a Styrofoam chest and started passing out ice-cold Coronas.

Horace Velario, Alonzos three-hundred-pound best friend from high school, nodded his shaved head and shoved a cold one in my hand. "You could probably use this."

I was staring dumbly at the semicircle of beaming police officers. I was beginning to realize that before you get to ride in the corrupt squad cars of Haven Park, everybody had to go through this same loyalty test.

"The final initiation," Alonzo said. "You're in the posse, man." He opened the door of the Escalade and announced, "Come on, we're going to a party."

I didn't much feel like going to a party. I just wanted to go home, lie down and try to get my nerves to settle. But I did as I was told. The other cops got into their vehicles. I heard doors slamming all around me and then six or eight cars, driving with just their parking lights on, caravaned out of the field and transitioned onto a small paved road, which ran alongside acres of orange groves.

"Where are we?" I asked.

"In the appropriately named city of Orange," Alonzo said with a grin. He got on the freeway and we were soon flying along, heading back toward downtown L. A.

For the first time since waking up I was beginning to accept the fact that I actually had some tomorrows.

"There's a party in Ladera Heights being thrown in your honor," Alonzo said, grinning.

"You guys are pretty careful," I said.

"There's a lot on the table down here, Shane, and nobody wants to see the inside of a prison cell, so you're damn right we're careful."

It was the first time he'd called me Shane.

We drove right past the cities of Haven Park and Bell and were soon on a twisting road, climbing up to the better neighborhoods in the hills of Ladera Heights. The small, single-story houses in the flatland neighborhoods slowly gave way to million-dollar mansions that overlooked the city. Finally, Alonzo pulled up to a huge double gate that was framed by a mosaic Spanish-style arch. I could see maybe twenty cars in a large parking area behind the wrought iron. The rest of the day watch pulled in behind us. Alonzo leaned out of his driver's window and triggered the security speaker.

"Bell," he said. "I got Scully with me." The gates opened and we pulled up the long drive and parked by a beautiful two-story house with lots of Spanish arches and a red tile roof.

"Whose place is this?" I asked, looking off to the right at a crowd of maybe forty men and women, who were drinking and chatting in clusters around the Olympic-sized pool and cabana.

"Cecil Bratano's," Alonzo said proudly. "He throws these bashes maybe twice a month."

As I got out of the Escalade, Talbot Jones came out of the house and approached me.

"Good going, Scully." He was dressed in slacks and a blue blazer. I think it was the first time I ever saw him smile.

I could hear music coming from the pool through gigantic speakers. Frank Sinatra was singing "Leave It All to Me."