Kill on Command (4 page)

As much as Brian loved being a cop, his goal was the FBI.  He had sent his application in and was hoping to hear something soon.  The process seemed like it was taking forever.

“Surprise!” he shouted, arms out wide, as he stepped up on the curb.  Sean half smiled.  Brian was a trim 185 pounds, but with the belt, the gun, cuffs and the vest, his 5’11” frame looked weighed down and much heavier. 

“Thanks a lot.  Did you see what you just did?  You ran her off.  She thinks I’m some sort of criminal.”  The shuttle bus was pulling away from the curb and Jennifer was looking out the window.

“You are.  Maybe this will help.”  Brian whipped out his baton and mimicked a striking blow to Sean’s head.  Sean snapped his hand up and caught it.  Jennifer covered her face and looked way.

“Wow!  Great reflexes!  I wasn’t really going to hit you, but I was tempted.”

“Duh.  Very funny,” Sean said.  Brian grabbed the bags and opened the trunk to Brian’s Charger.

“Oh, I have another surprise for you,” Brian said.  “There’s a lady in the back to see you.  Not one of the usual tramps you are seen with.” 

Sean opened the passenger side rear door to find his fawn and white Boxer, Bailey, in the back.

“Hey girl!”  Sean said, letting the dog lick his face.  Bailey twisted and wagged her tail like only a Boxer can. 

Brian climbed into the driver’s seat.  Sean put his hand on Bailey’s collar and opened the front passenger door.  Bailey hopped up front.  There was really no room with all the junk cops had to pack into cars.  Computer.  Shotgun.  Radio.

“No!  She cannot ride up here with you.  That isn’t allowed.”

“You don’t like dogs, do you?”  Sean asked, laughing.

“Not true and that dog loves me,” Brian answered quickly.

“You talking about Bailey or Stacy?”  Sean replied. He did not like Brian’s girlfriend, Stacy and was hoping his friend would come to his senses and dump her.

“That’s not nice.  She likes you.”

“Bullshit.”

“You need to tone it down around her.”

Sean ignored the last comment.

“Am I allowed up here?”  Sean asked.

“Technically, no.”

“Fine.  I will ride in the back with her.”  Bailey jumped in the back and Sean slid in beside her.”  Brian turned off the lights and looked over his shoulder.

“Well this looks familiar, you in the back of a Pittsburgh black and white.” 

The patrol car smelled like sweat and not in a good way.

“They are black and gold in Pittsburgh,” Sean replied.  “You know you can make this thing right with that flight attendant I was talking with.”

“How is that?” Brian asked, merging into airport traffic heading for US 60.

“You could run me by her hotel.”

“How am I supposed to know what hotel she is in?”  Brian mumbled.

“Jesus!  Am I supposed to be the detective?  She was in an airport Hilton shuttle.”

“Fine.  Fine.  Now you owe me the drinks.”  Brian floored the cruiser and took off towards the Hilton.

“Hit the lights!”

“No, you idiot,” Brian answered. 

“Hey dummy!  Can you put some music on?”  Sean asked.  Dummy really was a term of endearment.  Years ago in college, Sean had accidently called Brian a “dummy” in front of an entire economics class, during one of Brian’s presentations.  Thirty-five out of thirty-six people in the class burst out laughing.  Number thirty-six was the professor.  He was not amused.  Sean had a special meeting with the Dean regarding decorum.  They had called each other “dummy” ever since.

“This is a police car,” Brian replied looking at Sean in the rearview mirror.

“I guess that is a ‘no’ then.”

“Yeah, dummy, it’s a no,” Brian said, shaking his head.

Within three minutes they were right behind the shuttle and followed it into the hotel lot and under the Hilton’s portico.  Brian pulled right behind the shuttle and got out of the car.  Sean pulled the door handle but it was locked.

“Brian!  Let me out!”  Sean shouted.  Brian ignored him and walked over to the flight attendants.  Sean could not hear them but he could tell they were laughing.   Occasionally Brian would gesture towards the car and they would laugh some more.  After several minutes, Brian returned to the car.

“Wow!  What great girls!  They love my uniform.  I told them I liked theirs,” he chuckled and buckled his seatbelt.

“What did you tell them?”  Sean asked, slightly frustrated.

“I told them you were being arrested for being a douche bag, but I was going to release you into the custody of the dog.  They seemed to buy it.” 

Brian laughed.  “But seriously, I told them I was your ride and you are very important and they should try to make it out tonight.  If this does not get you laid, I don’t know what will.”  Brian pulled out of the Hilton lot and headed towards downtown.  Seconds later, the black Tahoe did the same.

“Fantastic.  You know, your car smells,” Sean said as he leaned back in the seat.  Bailey rested her head on his lap. 

“Shut up.”

Brian flew up Greentree Hill, past the tarnished gold WDVE building and back down the other side.  He shot through the Fort Pitt Tunnel, which opens up to one of the best views in the world.  You can see Heinz Field, PNC Park and all of downtown.  He took I-376 towards Forbes Avenue and the University of Pittsburgh on the way to Shadyside. 

Forbes Avenue took them through Oakland, past the “O” and the Cathedral of Learning, Carnegie Library and Science Center.  Right past the museum is Carnegie Mellon where all the eggheads go.  Sean thought Mark Cuban might have gone there.  He was not one hundred percent on that.  Brian took his first left, drove past egghead dorms, the egghead SAE house and turned right on Fifth Avenue and into Shadyside. 

Home.

Shadyside is an old residential area once home to the city’s steel executives.  It now has blocks of great old homes, tree-lined streets and some of the best restaurants and bars in Pittsburgh.  Brian owns a home on St. James Street, right in the middle of it, one block off of the Walnut Street retail area.

St. James is approximately three quarters of mile long.  It is lined with big trees and average sized sidewalks.  Brian’s house is a four bedroom built in 1926.  Nice porch.  Huge basement.  New kitchen and most importantly, one of the few driveways and garages on the street.  It was a great house.  It even had that good “old house smell.”  Old houses had a smell.  Sometimes good.  Sometimes bad. Brian inherited the house, stock and some cash from his grandparents.  Brian and Sean were roommates all through college and Brian let him live there for next to nothing.  During their freshman year, Brian’s family basically adopted Sean and looked after him all through college.

Brian pulled the Charger into his narrow driveway, jumped out and opened the rear door for Bailey and Sean.  Sean looked up at the garage.  His beat up Jeep was in there, along side a new black on black E63.

“We going to take the Benz out tonight?”  Sean asked, knowing the answer.  The car was one step away from a racecar.  Brian never let Sean near it.

“What?  The bar is on the next block.  No!  We will walk.” 

Brian grabbed one of the bags and Bailey followed both of them to the back of the house.  She was not a dog that would just suddenly run away and was rarely on a leash.  She followed Sean everywhere.

Adjacent to the driveway was a large deck with several pieces of patio furniture scattered about.  The kitchen door opened off of the deck.  The door was original to the house and full of character.  The wood near the bottom right side was worn from years of people nudging it with their feet to get it open.  It was made of thick oak - a window covered the top half of the door.  Over the years, the window’s ancient glass had picked up a wave that all old glass eventually gets.  It was amazing it had never broken as it rattled in the frame every time the door shut. It was going to take an act of god to break that glass.

Sean walked through the kitchen, threw his bag down, dropped and immediately started knocking out push-ups.  He didn’t know why. He just felt like it.

Brian came in right after him and stopped when he saw Sean.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Get off the floor! Grab a beer and relax.”

“You’re the one yelling,” Sean answered, popping up to his feet.

“You’re acting like a freak.  You still have a suit on for crying out loud!”  Brian said opening the fridge.  He had noticed Sean’s crazy obsession with exercise, but had not really said anything.  It was getting to be too much.

Sean grabbed a Rolling Rock and popped it open on the way to the living room.  He flopped down on the leather couch; Bailey lay down next to him. In addition to the couch, the room was furnished with two leather club chairs, a chest that served as a coffee table and a couple of random Persian rugs.  The staircase behind the couch led to the second floor.   The original wood floors added to the look and warmth of the house.   Adjacent to the living room was a study and dining room.  Off the kitchen were the stairs to the basement.

“Wow! A new TV.”  Sean searched for the remote.  Brian was one of those folks that had to have the latest TV, stereo or laptop.  Finding the remote, he flipped on a football game.  He never could get his arms around college games that were played on Thursday or Friday (Although, his school played plenty on days other than Saturday.)  God intended for football to be played on Saturday.

“Get up. We are going out by 9.  It’s 8:30.  I am going to change.”

“Just wear the cop stuff.  I bet we get free drinks all night,” Sean said drinking his beer.

“It’s a uniform and the answer is no.  I did not take the job for the free drinks,” Brian answered and went upstairs.

“I can’t think of a better reason to take a job.” 

Sean took a long sip of the beer, put his hand on Bailey’s head and said, “Come on girl, I’m going to change.”

Across the street, the black Tahoe stopped.  The redhead got out, said something to the occupants of the truck and headed into the duplex directly opposite Brian’s house.

II

Push-ups

Pittsburgh

Sean tossed his bag onto the bed, and looked around the room.  It was spotless.  Queen bed.  Dresser.  Bathroom.  Brian’s maid took care of everything.  He was thankful.  Bailey jumped onto the
bed and watched him.   He put the beer on the dresser and fished his iPhone out of his pocket, placing it on the Bose dock.  He hit shuffle.  The first song was “Love Gun.”  Sean nodded to himself as he took off his jacket, shirt and t-shirt.  His shoulder was still stiff.  He stood there in his suit pants, looked in the mirror and dropped back down and started blowing out push-ups.  Bailey moved to the edge of the bed to watch him.  He kept going.  Sweat poured off of his head, pooling on the hardwood floor.  He lost track of time.  His arms and chest were burning, but he could not make himself stop.  When he traveled he would go until failure. 

Brian heard the music from the hall and pushed open the door.  He was ready to head to Doc’s. 

“What the fuck?  It’s nine.  Let’s go!”  Brian emotions went from angry to concern as Sean got off the floor shaking his arms. 

“Why are you doing push ups again?  Shit!”

“Calm down!”  Sean answered.

“Are you on the juice?”

Sean grabbed a towel from the dresser, veins popped out of his chest shoulders and arms. 

“No, I am not taking anything.  I just get these moods where I have to workout and I can’t stop.  You know that.  I have been doing this for nearly a year.  Where have you been?”

Brian leaned against the doorframe. “I just didn’t say anything. Has it been a year?  That is not good.”

“Yeah, it has.”

“What do you mean ‘moods’?”  Brian seemed deep in thought.

“I mean I can’t stop myself – I have to workout constantly.  When I am traveling, I run and run for hours.   I run until I barf.  I had blisters on my feet for a long time, or what felt like a long time.  I have had to buy six pairs of new shoes in the last year.  I am wearing holes in them. Check this out.”  He tossed Brian a pair of New Balance running shoes that were sitting on the floor – there were holes worn through the ball of the foot. Brian examined the shoe and tossed it on the floor. 

Sean shrugged.  “Could be worse.  I could be hooked on smack or something.”

“That’s not funny.  Maybe you should talk to Michelle.”  Michelle was a doctor at the University of Pittsburgh Medical Center, or UPMC, as it was called.  She went to college with both Brian and Sean.   She was smarter than both put together.

“And tell her what?  I am working out too much? 

“Couldn’t hurt.”

“No way, I burned that bridge with her a year ago.  I don’t think she wants to do me any favors.”

“Just sayin.”

“Brian, she does not want to see me.  Let it go.  I’ll hop in the shower and be downstairs in five minutes.”

Brian, frowned, shrugged his shoulders and turned to head downstairs.   He paused and stuck his head back in the room. “And one more thing dummy. . . .”

“What’s that dummy?”  Sean replied.

“Turn down that fucking music, somebody might call the cops,” Brian laughed and walked downstairs.

Sean smiled and grabbed the now warm Rolling Rock, walked into the bathroom and started the water.  Bailey followed him in.  The bathroom had been redone but still retained the classic touches of the original house.  It contained an iron claw foot tub with a curtain, a pedestal sink and a toilet.  The mirror contained a hidden medicine cabinet and of course Brian’s maid, Maria, had stocked the bathroom with towels in anticipation of Sean’s arrival.  Neither Brian nor Maria would let Sean pay her, but he found ways to thank her.  Last year, he scraped together the money to pay for Steelers playoff tickets for Maria and her husband.

Sean stepped into the shower and Bailey lay down on the bathmat in front of the tub, ready for any intruder.  Five minutes later Sean was heading downstairs with Bailey in tow, wearing jeans, a white t-shirt and sandals.  Brian handed him a fresh beer.

“How would you like to play lacrosse tomorrow?”  Brian asked as he sat down in one of the club chairs.  He was wearing shorts and a blue polo.  He was one of those people that would only put long pants on if there was snow on the ground.  Sean teased him constantly that he should be one of those bike cops – they get to wear those cute cycling shorts all the time.  Brian liked cruising around in the Hemi powered Charger too much to give it up.

“I thought I was kicked off the team?”  Sean asked, sarcastically.

“Well, we need a long stick and you certainly look like you can run up and down the field.  Plus, I run the club.”

“Who are you playing?”  Sean asked, taking a sip of beer.

“Harrisburg.” 

“Come on!  They hate me.” 

Sean leaned forward, the t-shirt straining against his arms.

“Just behave yourself and keep your mouth shut and it will be fine.” Brian finished his beer and placed it on the coffee table.  “Oh, and don’t stand next to me tonight.  Compared to you, I have little girl arms.”

“Whatever.”  Sean leaned over and kissed Bailey’s head.  “See you in a few, girl.” 

Bailey followed them to the door as they left and then watched them from the window as they started walking to the bar.

Across the street, a figure in a dark window watched.

Bailey growled.