It was a typical north coast evening. The thin layer of gray fog had lingered all day, yet the sun had never strayed too far. A thin mist drizzled down to collect small, delicate puddles on the street shimmering with pale neon signs from the row of bars. I didn’t know it then, but this one case would completely change everything. I hadn’t anticipated anything that would happen when I talked to Sofia that night at the club, hell, I had just had my heart broken and was only there to heal the only way I knew how to, with my longest friend old no.7.
“I cannot believe she broke up with me from a fucking payphone.” James swore taking a hit from a tightly rolled joint, the red tip illuminating his face in the dark of the alleyway. “I mean, it is 2013 you have to go out of your way to find a payphone. We were together for 4 years by the way. And she decided that she had to find a fucking payphone because she was that desperate to dump me. That’s seriously low isn’t it, I’m not being too aggressive am I?”
“No you’re not dude, that’s fucking weird honestly.” his best friend since high school, Cory replied in agreement, hot air coming from his mouth in the chilling night.
James was a tall, gangly man with sharp blue eyes. He had medium length brown hair styled into a short pompadour which had fallen over his eyes slightly from the general dampness of the evening air. He spoke in a measured monotone voice with a softspoken demeanor. His vocal delivery was dream-like and airy, his comments were always trailing off at the end into a whisper. He wore slacks and a sport coat. He took the joint back from his friend and they continued to smoke it together, standing in companionable silence, watching the small droplets of rain get into a finer and finer mist in the alleyway in front of them. They were around the corner from their favorite jazz club, The Alibi. The facade of the old building was white with a large martini glass. The olive lit up a blue and red neon sign inside the glass. An arrow pointed down the concrete steps to the door for the club. They went downstairs into the club, the bar was to the right when you came in, the small stage in the back of the room and about 15 tables and booths in the middle. The pair sat down, the bar top worn with a thousand marks that bore ten thousand stories of drunken nights and wild, blurred memories. The bartender, Jessica was a pretty brunette with her hair up in a pony tail. She was a familiar and friendly face, the kind of down to earth good looks that you’d love in a barkeep. He couldn’t decide what he wanted. Gin is the drink of choice for those that hate other people, but whiskey is the go to when you’ve had your heart broken.
“Just a whiskey neat please Jess.” James said as he cozied himself on the sturdy wooden bar stool. The liquor shined behind the counter’s backlight and the warmth of the drugs and the inviting ambience of the bar was starting to settle his frayed nerves.
“I heard about you and Sadie. I’m sorry buddy. I know you guys were like super serious, right? 4 years? I’ll make it a double for yah, I’ll cover the cost.”
“Thanks. And yeah we were together for a long time. I moved back up here from LA to be with her, but you know. It is what it is. Whiskey is the only love I’ve ever had that never went wrong.”
“Did you just quote your own novel?” Cory asked raising a bushy eyebrow, he swept his long black hair off his forehead.
“So what if I did, it’s a good line, and apt at that.” James replied defensively.
The place was pretty full for a Thursday night, people who weren’t regulars were even bundling in. The area in front of the horse shoe stage was brimming with low chatter. The room was dark but each table had a small spotlight that illuminated the area over the tables giving it a very intimate atmosphere.
“So why exactly did you two break up?” Jess asked as she was making a martini for another patron.
James looked down at his glass and pondered taking the first sip. “Honestly, I don’t even know. She was yelling at me about smoking pot and drinking too much which is standard operating procedure. I don’t even smoke pot during the day any more by the way, I micro-dose edibles and I find that it’s really lovely, I guess I forgot I’m dating a lawyer,”
He spun his glass around on the counter top and then downed the entire thing in one gulp, the amber liquid burning its way down his throat and settling in his stomach, helping to chase away the cold from outside. “She also said some shit about how I have no ambition. I’m ok just getting by on residuals from novels I wrote when I was in college. I dunno, I stopped listening after a while, she was kind of just attacking my manhood and it felt weird.”
“It sounds like she wants you to propose dude, and maybe finish your third novel finally.” Jess said getting him another double shot.
“I have the whole thing written in my head, I just gotta sit down and work it out.” James replied, the red velvet curtain had been pulled back on the stage and the opening act came out. It was a 4 piece bossa nova band with a drummer, pianist, guitarist and bassist. The drummer counted them off and laid down a gentle grove on his shimmering gold ride symbol with his frayed wiry silver brushes. It became a smooth backdrop to the conversation at hand.
“I’m pretty sure she just wants you to show some anger you know, show some fight for your relationship. You’re too much of a steady Eddy sometimes, James.” Cory added, drinking his vodka tonic. The discarded lemon sat lonely on the bar top next to a dampened napkin.
“Well, I don’t like being angry, in fact, I just skipped the anger step and went straight to depression, hence why I’m here.”
He downed his second shot and then placed the glass closer to the bartender, ordering a third. The music wasn’t exceptional, but it was tight and mellow, the perfect backdrop for a cold evening’s conversation.
“Don’t you have that private detective company you run? Why doesn’t Sadie ever mention that?” Cory asked. He had the cadence of a typical stoner burn out, slow and absent-minded.
“Because she doesn’t know, Cory, how would you explain to your lawyer girlfriend that you’re spending your nights moonlighting as an unlicensed private eye,” James spat back a bit annoyed at the question.
“Besides, I make over 2000 dollars a month off residuals damn near, my books are both always in the top 20,000 on the Amazon book charts, that’s a really solid start to a career. She acts like I’ve accomplished nothing at 27, just because she went to some fancy pre-law school nobody has ever heard of. Seriously, have you ever heard of The University of Pennsylvania? She’s always bragging about how she graduated from Penn, I’ve heard of Penn State, but just Penn?”
“I mean, let’s be honest buddy, I love your books but the quality isn’t the reason they’re always that high on the sales charts, remember?” Cory said after a short pause, like he was debating bringing this point up again.
“Yes,” James sighed “I know it’s because the publisher chose a type of paper that’s ultra flammable so buying a paperback copy of my book is cheaper than buying firewood and it sells a lot in third world countries, I get it. I’m still successful damnit.” He downed another shot and passive aggressively slammed the glass to the bar top.
“So why the hell is this place so packed tonight Jess, is there a special act or something?” Cory asked, still milking that same vodka tonic and looking concerned at the pace in which James was throwing them down already.
“Oh yeah, you haven’t heard Sofia sing? She’s magical, you are gonna love her James.”
I nodded but I wasn’t paying attention to the music or the dialog. I was thinking about my scorned lover and if my next shot would get there fast enough to keep the negative thoughts out of my head.
“Jess, get me another double I’m gonna go to the restroom real quick.”
“You got it hoss.” she winked. he got up and the opening act’s set had ended. They left the stage to tentative applause from the crowd. James went into the bathroom and over to the urinal which had the words olde crow carved into the wood above it. He washed and dried his hands and fixed up his pompadour in the mirror. As he was readying himself to leave, he heard the owner of the club introducing the headliner.
“Alright Alibi, give it up for this amazing new act who I think will become a regular, she’s stolen my heart and I’m sure she will steal yours too. Without further ado, here is the Sofia Nabokova Sextet.”
The man left the stage and as I walked back into the bar, I felt the entire mood of the place change. When the curtain rose and I saw Sofia, it was like I had reached a new plane of consciousness, that I could finally understand the beauty in the human condition. She was a little blonde bombshell with an hourglass figure that would make the Pope go to confession. She wore a silver gown that shone like diamonds against the soft lighting of the club, the flecks of sequin accentuating the wave of her hips. The music started, a gentle melody with the flute taking the lead. There were six band members, a typical jazz quartet, a flautist and alto sax player. Sofia stepped up to the microphone, her blood red lips curling into a gentle smile that could spark desire in the coldest of hearts.
“In the heat of the day, my heart starts to beat slow.”
She had the voice of a siren, innocent and sweet on the surface but with an underlying melancholy that was captivating. The way she held contact with the crowd, those soft blue gray eyes, pleading and demanding in equal measure; it was like she was performing for everyone in the room as if it were a private show. The words she was singing were irrelevant, she could have been singing in Russian, I couldn’t even hear them to be honest, all I cared about was how she was making me feel, this woman I had never met or seen before had me like a moth to flame.
“In the dead of the night, baby I start to lose control.”
The way she slipped between her falsetto and full voice so effortlessly showed she was more than a pretty face, she had a mastery of her craft. I stood there watching, I was so enthralled, I ceased to be apart of the crowd. I felt an awakening in my very being, like I had been set adrift on a stormy sea and she was a lone island on the horizon. She was singing directly to me and I knew it. I know my way around a noir story and if she wasn’t the fem fatale of this one, nobody was.
“There’s no denying the way that we fit together, like Russian dolls, one inside the other.” she smiled and playfully swung the mic stand back and forth as the alto sax took the lead, the player stepping forward, the brass of the instrument catching the light that wasn’t hitting Sofia’s gorgeous gown.
James walked back over to the bar and sat down on the bulky stool, crossing his legs and sighing. His fresh drink had come with a glass of water that he had refused to acknowledge before taking a generous sip of the alcohol.
“She’s something else ain’t she?” Jess said, scooping ice out of a giant bin below the level of the bar top, the chips rustling with a scraping sound and then clinking into a glass.
“I swear she was singing that song just to me.” James said abstractly, his mind lost in a haze that was partially the drugs and mostly Sofia.
“We all feel like that dude, she’s an incredible performer. And she’s like by far the hottest girl I’ve ever seen.” Cory stated, turning around to look at the stage.
“First of all Cory, spend a week outside Humboldt, please. Second of all, I swear to god man, she was staring into my eyes singing that song. We made eye contact, she was singing it to me, I’m telling you I felt it in my soul.”
“If only I had a dime for every time I heard a man say that, I wouldn’t be busting my ass in this dump” Jess teased, drawing another heavy sigh James, who took a small sip of his whiskey.
The show continued, it didn’t even feel like a set, each song just slipping together into a flow state of smooth grooves and Sofia’s voice which was running the chill out of his bones faster than any whiskey ever could. they weren’t strictly playing Jazz, some fusion with other elements of blues and rock. After her set, she smiled and waived, the crowd erupting into applause, she went straight off the side of the stage and back to the green room. A few minutes later, a man James recognized as the flautist walked up to the bar. “You’re the private detective, right?” the man asked bluntly, addressing James.
“Oh yes, I am.” James replied straightening up. “James Frost, private eye, how may I help you? ” he said, shaking the man’s hand.
“Sofia is in the green room, she wants to talk to you.” He turned without another word and walked back to the VIP area behind the stage where he came from. Both Cory and Jess smiled at him knowingly.
“Guys stop, I’m not ready for that just yet, it’s been like 6 hours.”
“You know what they say, the best cure for a broken heart is to find a new embrace to be terrified to lose.” Cory replied
” ‘They’ are me, I said that in my second novel. Yes I know it’s apt.” James responded, slamming the second half of his shot and asking Jess if she knew what Sofia drank. Jess pulled out a very ornate bottle of vodka from the top shelf behind her and handed it to him. “Go get her.” she said compassionately.
James fluffed up his pompadour and smoothed out the creases in his suit jacket and slacks. he wet his fingers with an ice cube from the before untouched water and fixed his hair up and then dried his hand off.
I nodded, grabbing the bottle and proceeding to the back. My nerves were splintering like plywood over just being in the same room as Sofia. I wasn’t ready for anything romantic, but she was a unique kind of enthralling, a night with a woman like her would surely mend any lovesick heart, or possibly make the pain that much worse. As I knocked on the door, a sweet, melodic voice called from the other side, muffled by the thick walls, I could still hear the gorgeous lull in her accent. She opened the door and it was like being struck by lightning; her golden locks cascading over her shoulders in soft flowing waves like the tendrils of the dawn’s first sunlight through a parted curtain. It was one thing to see her on stage from afar, but she was now right here, within arm’s length.
James presented the bottle to her, the smell of her perfume, a mix of cherry and vanilla was intoxicating and dominating the space. “Oh zhank you, how do you know my brand?” she replied cheerfully in that sweet, innocent voice that made his heart wretch with desire. She curled her mouth up into a slight smirk as she poured them each a small cup of the clear spirit.
“I’m a private eye, it’s my job to find out.” James replied, more suave than he had ever anticipated. She non-verbally invited him to sit on the couch next to her. The space was cramped and the couch was just a love seat, one that had been reupholstered several times. James was visibly nervous as she sauntered over to sit next to him. Her every move was like a dance, she was so elegant and graceful, especially in that extravagant dress; the energy of her youthfulness warmed his heart.
“Do you mind if I smoke?” she asked, pulling a cigarette out of the pack with her mouth. She looked for a lighter and James reached over, flicking his zippo out to give her a light, the orange flame shooting out to lick the end of the cigarette, as smooth as silk.
She let out a pillowy cloud of smoke and smiled again. “I know you. You are from the book.” She said taking another teasing, slow draw from her long filter cigarette.
“So know my novels? Well, yes that’s me.” he replied with a forced anxious chuckle.
“Oh, dah. We loved your books in the high school, they got my family through many winters.”
He did a double take, unsure if she meant reading or burning them. She lifted her cup to her mouth and took a small sip of the vodka. Her lipstick left a faint residue on the edge of the glass. He watched, bewitched by the Russian beauty, even seeing something as simple as the tact of her lip separate from the rim of the glass was like magic to him.
“I assume, you um… Didn’t bring me back here just because you really like my writing, correct? Do you require my services?” he looked into those smokey gray eyes that matched the shade of silver on her gown.
“Here, let me go get something for you.” She slid over the couch and got so close he could feel the heat radiating off her body. She took the cigarette out of her mouth and slid it between his lips. James hated tobacco, he’d never even had the desire to take a drag off a cigarette before, but his lips parted like the red sea for this gorgeous blonde to slide the filter in with absolutely zero resistance. She ran her hand down his cheek, her finger drawing a line over his thin cheek bones and down to his jawline which caused his entire body to shiver with nerves and desire. He took a drag from the cigarette, trying his hardest to be cool and pretend he actually took it down to his lungs instead of just holding it in his cheeks. The smoke billowed out again and filled the room momentarily before wisping away. Sofia walked over to a small side table, maple with a dark stain on it, she opened it slowly. Every move she made was methodical and hypnotizing. James coughed violently as she bent over and he accidentally inhaled the smoke. Sofia grabbed a manilla file and sashayed back over to the couch.
“You don’t smoke do you?” She teased, leaning into him and taking the cigarette from his mouth, making the most smoldering eye contact he’d ever gotten from a woman. If he were even trying to respond in that moment, the words were permanently etched in his throat. The weight of her against him was exquisite as her chest pressed into his shoulder.
“M-my grandma got lung cancer from smoking cigarettes and I mean she was fine, b-but she had only one functioning lung so I was always scared of cigarettes, and she always used to say I’d catch pneumonia if I went in the garage without socks on but she was always out there with one lung.. . I’m sorry am I talking too much? I sometimes lose my filter when I talk to attractive women.”
“Oh James, you are like Jason Schwartzman character in real life, dah?” She giggled cutely, taking the cigarette away from him and putting the red stained filter back into her mouth after ashing it into the cheap plastic tray on the table.
“Thanks… I-I think.” James replied, downing his drink more out of the need to have a moment’s respite to gather his thoughts that swirled like the smoke in the space around them than anything else. He carefully picked up the folder and opened it, revealing a photocopied picture. It was grainy and pixelated from being blown up but if you squinted hard, it looked like a man and a woman sitting in the window of a diner.
“I’m gonna need more context to what I’m looking at here Sofia.” he said, holding the thin photocopy up so his alcohol impaired eyes could see more clearly.
Sofia got up and checked to make sure the door was locked. She sighed and then said “My boyfriend and manager, Andrei… I think… I think he is cheating on me.”
The word boyfriend had driven a burning dagger right through my heart; never before had I been so disappointed an obviously unobtainable woman was indeed, unobtainable.
“R-right, so what do you want me to do? A classic trail job?” He mused, pouring himself a second, much larger glass of vodka.
“He wasn’t at my show tonight because he said he has meetings with other venues, but I don’t believe him. Can maybe you follow him and get pictures, just to see if he’s with other women?” she asked.
“Yeah, I’ll do it Sofia.” he replied, taking a sip and putting the glass back down onto the table with a heavy thud, his eyes showing the expression of a man deep in thought.
“The only thing is, I do not have much money. What is your rate?”
“Don’t worry about it, my rates are quite reasonable. I only charge 100 dollars a day plus expenses.”
“Ok, zhank you so much. I can do that. He’s usually at The Gridiron Club I think he said, and he eats late at the A1 Steakhouse when he has meetings.”
“I’ll get started on your case right away. Thank you for reaching out to me Sofia. I hope for your sake it’s nothing and he’s not cheating.” James nodded, taking the picture with him and standing up. He downed the final bit of vodka, the liquor starting to get easier and easier to drink as the night wore on. Sofia looked up at him one last time as he went to leave, an impassioned sparkle in her eye. “Do you want to take your bottle?” she asked
“No, your performance was captivating Sofia, you keep it as my gift for such a wonderful set, it truly stirred something within me, take it as my thanks.”
She smiled that bright, big toothed smile. He took a few steps towards the door before looking back.
“I’m sorry, I can’t leave on a line that cheesy. I just… Have a good night Sofia, I should have an answer for you in the morning.”
“Oh James, it’s cute to see somebody be nervous around me, makes me feel like the first weeks of a new love. Goodnight.” she blew him a kiss and he turned to leave, shutting the door quietly.
“You stirred something within me, god if that’s how you flirt now you should just fucking beg Sadie to take you back.” he swore at himself the moment the door closed, walking back to Cory and Jess who looked at him expectantly.
“Stop, she just had a case for me which I’m going to go do right now.” He pulled his cracked leather wallet out of the breast pocket of his coat and Cory stopped him immediately.
“I said I got tonight dude. You’re good.” he stated
“Thanks man, I know we were gonna hook up the projector at your work and play Halo Reach like the old days, but I gotta go do this.”
“I’m tired as hell anyway, gonna head home in a bit.” Cory affirmed, finally finishing his second cocktail.
I waived to Jess and then left the club, walking up the front steps and out onto the street which was still slick with the night’s soft rain. I stopped at my car, a gold Toyota Corolla that had seen far better days. I got my camera with a strong aftermarket lens out of the case in the trunk and then slammed the lid down. My first stop was the Gridiron Club, the type of joint that should be put in the dictionary under the words “dive bar” if not on the city condemnation list. The night was chilling but with the atmospheric dampness of a fresh spring rain. The few cars on the street slowly drove by, their tires making a wet sound as they glided against the pavement that shone in their headlights. It was one of those nights where all you could do to drive off the cold was get lost in your own thoughts. The facade of the bar was a pale white with a classic red door. I entered and soaked in the vibe of the place, the grimy red tiles under foot, the tired old taps of beer that hadn’t changed brands since the 80’s; sometimes all a bar needs is a friendly face and a stiff drink to feel like home.
James entered the dive, the only place in the bar with any signs of life was the pool area which was full of gruff looking patrons. He must have stuck out like a sore thumb in the place, opting for a tweed jacket instead of a leather one. He walked up to the bar where a stout man looked at him.
“Hello, can I have a gin and tonic please, and make it mostly tonic, I’m technically on the clock here.” James stated. The bartender silently started shuffling to make his drink. James looked around at the neon and old school beer posters plastered haphazardly around the walls. The clock read that it was nearly 2 AM already. He pulled the folded up photo out of his breast pocket and got the barkeep’s attention as he leaned nonchalantly on the bar.
“You ever see these two together here?” he asked
The bartender didn’t even acknowledge his inquiry. James sighed and reached abreast again and pulled out his wallet. He unfurled it and pulled a crisp 20 dollar bill out of it. He made sure the bartender saw it then slapped it onto the cheap plastic bar top.
“Yeah I’ve seen them together. But he’s usually with another girl, this smokin’ hot blonde. Like I’m saying, the rack on her…”
“I don’t care about the blonde. And I’m… Acutely aware of her breast size… Thank you. Ever see him with a redhead like the one in the picture?” James interrupted, taking his drink from the employee and tapping the photo.
The bartender looked at him with a quizzical eyebrow raise. James threw his head back in obvious frustration and opened his wallet again, producing another twenty.
“Yeah, I see them together a lot. sometimes he’s with other girls but mostly the red head. Don’t know her name though, sorry. That’s all I got.” he said taking the bill quickly, his lips suddenly loose again.
“Have you ever seen them kiss or do anything romantic, and were they here tonight? And don’t try to get any more money, that 40 was all I had on me and you are really pushing your luck with this as is.”
“No. I never seen them kiss, he bought her drinks though.” The man said aggressively and then started to fixing a hose under the tap beneath the bar. “They were here about 15 minutes ago.”
James quickly threw back his drink, it was weak as he had ordered it, he barely tasted the gin. He put the empty highball glass down and nodded to the barkeep. He left the warmth of the heated bar and back out onto the street where he bundled his suit closer to his body. He headed a few blocks over to the A1 Steakhouse, the good part about living in a small town, every point of interest was within walking distance. The town had a lot of big homes that were built in the 60’s and 70’s and the streets were just dotted with varying degrees of oddly shaped houses. The restaurant was open 24 hours a day. It wasn’t the best steak in the city, but you could do a hell of a lot worse if you wanted a charbroiled hunk of meat at 3 in the morning. James took a joint out of an orange pill bottle in his pocket. He stood underneath the overhang of a building across the street and lit it, savoring the hit and exhaling slowly. He set up his camera, dialing in the lighting and he took some pictures of the front of the building to adjust his camera to the darkness.
He left the joint in his mouth hitting it slowly as he watched a man who looked similar in build to the one in the picture he was given step out of a black SUV. He focused in and snapped a few pictures, as he helped a woman with an unnatural shade of dark burgundy red hair out of the car by hand. They walked into the restaurant and were immediately seated at the window by the front door. They sat across from each other after exchanging hugs. He snapped more and more pictures, changing the lighting and the zoom of the lens as needed. The joint had been burning down only one half before he took another hit and ashed it. He zoomed in as the pair in the window got food and clinked their drinks, two martinis, together. James suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder and he turned to find two massive, stoic and muscular men with faces that looked like they had been carved out of stone standing above him. James was a tall man at nearly six foot three, but these two towered over him and had four times the amount of muscle.
“Evening gentlemen.” he said nervously looking up at the two men.
“Who are you?” one asked in a deep Russian accent
“Me I… I’m not important. W-who are you guys?”
“I am Sergei… And ‘zis is other Sergei.” One stated simply, cracking his knuckles “Why you are taking photos of Andrei?” he added.
“Look guys, it’s late… I-If you’re looking for trouble that’s not me I’m a p-pacificist.”
“Either we smash camera or we smash you and delete photos. your choice.”
“I-I-I am going to regret this in the short term… But smash me and just delete the photos please, my camera is very expensive.”
“Very well then.” One man said, cocking his fist and snatching the camera from off his shoulder and tossing it to the other one. The man wound up and delivered a haymaker right to the cheek of James. The second blow hit him above the eye and then as he collapsed on the ground, he got viciously kicked once in the gut and once in the sternum. As he lay on the wet ground, the gravel pebbles from the asphalt sticking to his jacket he groaned, bent over in the fetal position while the other goon went through his camera.
“I can’t figure out how to work this fancy camera, there are too many menus.” he said confused “What is aperture?”
“Don’t mess with that please, I have it set perf-” Sergei kicked him again in side, causing James to cough and spudder to catch his breath.
“Whatever, who cares about pictures. Let’s go, we did enough.” the man threw the camera at James who caught it with his chest and hands, mostly his chest which felt like it had been caved in. He stayed on the ground feeling the area around his left eye swell already. He wiped the blood from his nose and above his eye and stood up, grabbing the camera and drying it off. He still had one arm across his stomach as he reached down and grabbed what was left of the joint, lighting it and inhaling. He walked down the street, discarding the roach after just a few hits. Just as he turned to go back to home, a white police car put on its lights, blinding him momentarily. He thought nothing of it because surely he had done nothing wrong, but soon the car had parked and the burly officer was asking him to put his hands on the hood of a car parked in the street from his window.
“You, hand over the camera.” He said
“Come on, man. I’m just going home, in fact I’m a victim here, go arrest those guys.”
“I can’t do that, what you were doing is illegal. You can’t take pictures of people in public without their permission. You’re coming down the station, I don’t care what time it is.”
“Officer, this is absurd, I’m not hurting anybody, I’m simply taking pictures of… Umph…” he paused as the officer started lightly frisked him.
“I’m simply taking pictures of the building, I work for the North Coast Journal and we’re highlighting a local business that has been a part of the community in Humboldt for over 30 years.” He said, trying to angle his way out of this. The officer looked over at him with a scowl and a suspicious brow.
“You were doing photojournalism at 3AM? Not buying it pal, why don’t you just take a little trip downtown with me?”
He cuffed him, taking the camera and stuffing him into the back seat of the police car. He watched the street lamps roll by out the window, his hands painfully stuck behind his body as they took the very short drive to the police station. He got out and walked into the nearly empty station, his head being shoved down by the arresting officer. He was lead down a corridor of cheap fake wood paneling and ridiculously overshined floors until he got to the holding area. He sat in a plastic chair and looked up at a poster on the wall, an anti-drug ad that read “Is it really just one hit?” and it depicted an outstretched hand that had the material that when you looked at it from one angle it was one image and from another, a different one. This one switched from having a joint in the hand to an open palm with a heroin syringe, pink pills, a vile of cocaine and a white pill that looked like MDMA.
He sat in the chair, still handcuffed and looked over at the clerk who was sitting about 10 feet away typing on his computer.
“You guys really are arresting me? I’m the victim here!” he shouted indignantly “I was brutally assaulted and this is how I get treated by our so called justice system?”
“Save it for Sargent Detmer, I can’t help you. They’ll have you for prints and your mugshot when you’re done complaining about the fairness of your arrest.” The clerk sassed back, buzzing open a door. He walked in and they rolled his finger prints onto paper and then went to do his mugshot. James was annoyed at how the ink lingered on his hands and he couldn’t do anything to wipe them off.
“I guess there’s nobody better to ask right now, a girl told me I was like a Jason Schwartzman character in real life, do you think it was compliment or do you think she was just saying I have a big nose?” The camera flashed.
“Turn left.”
“Yeah, you’re right, the profile shot is probably the better way to tell. Personally, I don’t think it’s that big. Like it’s bigger than average but not disproportionate.”
He turned again and then he was lead to the holding cell. He walked in, the guard took his cuffs off and then closed the cell. James started to idly play shadow puppets against the cell wall, looking out of the red chipped paint on the bars and into the hallway where a bunch of officers were working, steam coming from their cups of morning coffee. After a few excruciating hours, a large man with a more ornate badge than the others came in, opening the cell.
“James Frost?” the man asked
“That’s me.” James replied wearily.
“Your lawyer is here, but I already informed her you’re free to go. You didn’t technically do anything illegal and since nobody is pressing charges we can’t hold you. Just don’t be out taking pictures of people at all manner of the night please in the future?” he asked
“Yes sir.” James replied. He didn’t have the energy to argue. His head was throbbing and his throat was so dry he could barely swallow. As the officer turned to leave, James said “Can I get that in writing, the part about not technically doing anything ille-” he stopped when he saw the Sargent walk down the hall and turn the corner without acknowledging his question.
Just as the policeman had vacated the area, he saw a familiar face walking down the hall. A Chinese girl with chestnut hair so dark it was nearly black, put up in a messy bun slowly walked towards him in the cell. She had the look of a woman scorned, lines of anger and tiredness etched on her pretty face. Her lithe, athletic body and short stature hardly made her physically imposing, but he was more afraid of her now than he had been of the two Russian thugs.
“Sadie, I’m really…”
“Shut up and go get in the car.” she snapped.
James closed his eyes and sighed. He stopped by the front to get his camera and other possessions that had been taken, stopped to get a drink of water from the fountain that barely worked and then walked out to Sadie’s BMW and got into the front passenger’s seat. He turned to look out the back window at Sadie who had a look he had become all too familiar with. She entered a few minutes later, starting up the car without saying a single word, she was barely even breathing, as if the level of anger had reached such a boiling point that she had looped around to becoming zen.
“Did you ever plan on telling me?” she said with an overbearing anger but with a softness in tone that betrayed her true feelings after a few minutes of driving in complete silence.
“Sadie, I’m so sorry I lied to you. I just… I just wanted to do something meaningful to help people, I figured I could do PI work in real life since I’ve read and written so many noir novels.” he explained.
“I’m not mad about not saying anything to me, I’m upset because what you did is insanely illegal and you’re really lucky to not be catching about 3 felonies right now.”
“For the record, the officer said I didn’t technically do anything illegal, I knew I should have gotten that in writing…”
“I don’t care, James.” she scoffed, the frustration in her voice seeping through.
“All I’m saying is that it’s not illegal to follow somebody around a bit… Technically.”
“Besides the fact it literally is, that’s called stalking, what you did could easily be considered illegal photographing which is a felony in the state of California. You would be getting arraigned for prison right now if they had decided to press charges.” she barked at him, cutting him off.
“You are being way too angry and aggressive for 6 in the morning.” James stated meekly, leaning back and putting his cheek on the cool class of the window to help soothe his ailing head.
“James, somebody has tell you to grow the fuck up.” Sadie said as she turned the corner onto his street.
Sadie was talking at me, but I wasn’t listening. Between my heart hammering in my forehead, and my sternum feeling concave, I was still thinking about the case. I figured I’d let Sadie talk herself back to being calm before I tried to intervene too much.
“It is insane what you will do to avoid having a 9 to 5 job, you know that?” she said as I finally snapped back to the moment. “There are worse things than having a steady job you have to show up for James, trust me, like being in fucking prison.”
“What do you want from me Sadie? Why are you always such a fucking nark about things now? The girl I fell in love with before I moved to LA was a free spirited pot smoker who loved poetry and playing the violin more than anything in the universe. And now you’re a 9-7 desk jockey who overworks herself and thinks any fun should be put into a spreadsheet so she can view it more efficiently later.”
“I’m sorry that some of us actually have to work to make it through life, James, we can’t just float around in a malaise of weed smoke and cheap whiskey because we wrote a few novels 10 years ago and that only make money because Belarusians are cold in the winter.” she sighed. She looked down and pulled into the parking lot of a building that was painted a golden yellow on the corner of the street, the sign reading Le Samurai, Foreign Film rentals and Cafe. “I don’t know what’s worse James, the fact that you are doing this at all or the fact you’re doing this dumb shit for 100 bucks.” she said, shaking her head, refusing to look over at him.
“It’s a hundred bucks a day plus expenses. That part is really important, now I see why all the great literary detectives added that, I had to spend forty dollars on bribes tonight.”
He looked over but Sadie was not amused by his comments.
“I just don’t get why you suddenly want me to change. I like who I am.” he added very sheepishly. “You want me to give up my dreams? Is that it? You know I always supported you wanting to be an ACL lawyer, I think people’s knees deserve proper litigation”
“ACL-U- James, I want to be an ACL-U- lawyer.”
Sadie sighed again, shaking her head in disbelief. There was short pause as she thought over her words, and this time came with a more compassionate tone in her voice. “I get that you are happy with who and where you are, and I’ve always loved how comfortable you are being yourself… It’s the most attractive thing about you… But people change. I changed, a lot. I’m just not that teenager who wants to smoke a bunch of dope and walk in the forest all day. We grow up, we progress, we want to get better. None of that is part of my personality any more.”
“And sometimes you go from being a girl who was giddy to turn 18 so that she could have her favorite MCR lyrics tattooed on her ribcage to a woman who wants to have the same tattoo removed in case having non-visible ink brings your past into question in the courtroom.’ That isn’t getting better, that’s losing the spark of joy that separates us from unfeeling machines.” he spat back impassioned.
She looked down and out the window at the gray morning, the sun desperately fighting to poke through the early cloud cover and it was starting to win the battle. He was right that she had swung all the way around to being no fun. There was only so many hours in the day, but she could easily make some time for writing or playing violin if she wanted to. But her ambition to be a great lawyer superseded all that. And she was still just a bit too upset to admit he was right about anything.
“I have to ask, legally as your lawyer, are you ok and do you want to press assault charges?” Sadie inquired, hoping to get the subject off of her.
“No, no, I’m not pressing. It’s really not that bad, they gave me three band aids at the station, but I only needed one for my nose so I put the other two in a classic X on my forehead because I thought it would look like Looney Tunes.”
Sadie had this little idiosyncrasy I really loved, where whenever I said something that she knew she shouldn’t laugh at, she would put her head down and try to disguise her smirk but all it did was make her seem even more adorable. And I knew exactly how to press her buttons in the best way. She gathered herself, her face turning back to the stoic expression that had been on there since she had picked me up. The silence between us was labored, like we both had so much to say that it was keeping us from saying anything at all; so I just sat staring at the finely woven leather interior of the luxury car which wasn’t going anywhere.
“4 years and you broke up with me on a fucking payphone Sadie?” he finally mustered up the courage to say; slumping back in his seat and picking idly at the vinyl on the seat cushion. “Just as a human being don’t I deserve better than that?”
“You didn’t deserve that but… You’re always the one talking about seizing the moment and riding the wave when you’re struck by a moment of clarity. I felt it then and I just… I don’t know, I had to get it all off my chest.”
“You called me collect Sadie, I thought you were in danger and you dropped all this shit about how I’m a pussy who won’t ever finish my trilogy of novels because I’m afraid of writing a bad ending or it not selling as well as the others on me. I get it, it’s been 5 years since my last book, but don’t attack my character over it.”
“I’m sorry I said that about you. I wasn’t in the right mind frame.” she said softly and sincerely and he new she truly meant it.
“Well thanks for apologizing, It seems like I was being put in the ‘Be a Man’ box and it didn’t feel great.”
“What the fuck are you talking about James?” she said, genuinely confused.
“There was this teenage counseling poster outside my cell, I read it like 500 times, jail is boring as shit.”
Sadie got out and so did James, the doors closing with a heavy thunk that showed the car’s build quality. They both walked across the lot to a flight of weather worn red wooden stairs on the side of the building, still damp and slick from the morning dew. James stopped on the steps and turned to Sadie.
“Sadie, as you’re probably very aware, I’m an idiot sometimes…”
“Understatement but go on.” she murmured with underlying vitriol.
“I’m not always the best at boyfriend stuff but just be real with me. Are you upset I haven’t proposed yet?”
The question hung in the air like the dawn’s fog. She had the look of a woman who was unsure how to answer. She honestly had never even thought about the proposition.
“James…” she started heaving a sigh midway through the sentence “I’m not worried about marriage right now, I’m focused on my career and…” she paused realizing that very well could be the issue.
“I don’t have a ring but I’ll propose right now.” James said, kneeling down.
“James get up please.” she said with an exasperated tone. “It’s not about a ring or about you. I love you, to a fucking fault and I know you know that. We’ll talk about these things when the time comes, and you know, usually you buy the ring first before you propose.” she said
“Well, what if we do something super progressive, we go and pick out the ring together and then I decide when the time is right to propose. It’ll be like a little game, every time I take you out to a nice dinner and I kneel down, am I going to pop the question or am I just tying my shoe?”
Sadie put her head down and used her hand to hide the smirk that James knew was an inevitability. “Will you shut up, I’m trying to be mad at you.” she said, a small laugh creeping into her comments.
The pair continued up the weather worn stairs, to the side of the building which had a small landing and then a red door to the office space above the cafe. Cory was standing at the top of the flight of stairs waiting for them.
“Dude, are you ok, I checked the cameras when I got in and didn’t see you come home last night, so I was like, hella worried bro.” Cory said, he had put his hair up in a tall bun, revealing his broad shoulders, the small straggling hairs on his neck were still wet from the shower.
“I’m fine Cory.” he said heaving an exasperated sigh.
“Well, good. By the way, that girl’s bottle of vodka was 150 bucks last night, so I hope you at least got to second base in there.” he said
“Hey Cory, you remember Sadie, right?” James replied, stepping aside so he could see the woman behind him and then hanging his head in embarrassment.
“I’m sorry, what’s this about another girl?” Sadie asked angrily.
“It’s nothing she’s just a client. She’s not even my type, relax.” James responded quickly, trying to end the conversation there.
He opened the second door and let the trio in. His house was actually an office space that he had turned into a makeshift apartment and workspace. He had a huge desk with a few chairs and a couch in front of it as soon as you opened the entry way door. There was a kitchenette, a tiny bathroom with a thin window and a Victorian style tub that was made of heavy white porcelain. The golden claw feet showed the age of the building. Aside it was a smaller office room which had been converted into a bedroom with a TV and a full sized bed that took up 90 percent of the space. The walls were adorned with prints of his favorite photos he’d taken, usually landscape shots of local landmarks. He immediately walked to the kitchen and reached into a drawer, the antique wood screeching in protest. He continued and pulled out a small pipe and a cheap plastic baggy half full with marijuana. He grabbed a bottle of crown royal from the counter top and started making himself an old fashioned as he simultaneously packed the pipe. He felt the searing heat of Sadie’s eyes upon him.
“Don’t you dare start with the judgmental horse shit Sadie. In the last 24 hours I have been dumped by my girlfriend of nearly half a decade, been thrown in jail, and gotten pulverized by a Rocky antagonist. Plus I’m hungover as shit and I haven’t slept a wink. The marijuana is for the pain and my headache, the whiskey however, is for my ego.” James stated, putting the finishing touches on his old fashioned and opening the window so he could hit the pipe. He set it down on the sill, the contents of the bowl still smoldering as he took a seat in the nearby canvas chair and drank from the highball glass steadily, putting the ice cold container to the bridge of his nose.
“Well I wasn’t going to say anything but since you want to be a little bitch about it, yeah I think it’s complete degenerate nonsense that you’re both drinking and smoking weed before the sun has properly come up.” Sadie said abrasively with attitude in her voice.
“Mhm, like I have zero memories of doing bad shit with you.” James sneered in response. “I’m sure your buddies over at the Bar Association would love to hear about the time in high school when you showed that dork in your math class running the counter your bra so we could steal spray paint from a Michael’s.”
“Yeah, the key is they’re all memories, James. I don’t do this stupid stuff now. I’m not flashing guys for a dime bag any more. I barely even drink these days.” she said, the struggle to ward off the embarrassment in her voice a hard fought one.
“I don’t trust a man without vices. It means their mind is too dull to need the required escape from the pain of their humanity.” James replied in a calm voice, tracing a finger lazily over the rim of his glass in bemusement.
“Did you just quote your own fucking novel?” Sadie mocked him.
“Right, he does it a lot, I’m not crazy. It’s so pretentious” Cory agreed
“Whatever. Can you guys get out, I’m about to sleep for like two hours before I have to call Sofia back about the case.” he said, taking another long draw from the small blue pipe, shaped into the form of a classic Sherlock Holmes era apparatus.
“Um absolutely not. Are you fucking insane? You are never doing this again. You’re taking down the ad and I’m not saying this as your ex-girlfriend, I’m heavily suggesting it as your lawyer.” Sadie demanded, her voice raising again.
James sighed and nodded, downing the rest of his glass. “Ok, I’ll do it.”
“I’m gonna go get ready to open. You look like you need a coffee Sade.” he said
“Can I get a double shot of espresso please Cory? I’m gonna need all the caffeine in the world after James here decided to fuck up my day by trying to cosplay as Columbo.” she replied as Cory made himself scarce so the two lovers could have some much appreciated alone time.
“I’m sorry Sadie.” he said tamely.
“It’s ok, I’ll survive. I’ll take a nap at my desk or something.” she said, a genuine warmth in her voice replacing the anger that once was there. “I want you to give my dad a call. He’s really connected and he can get you any spot you want at one of the local papers. Work part time there and work on your third novel in the off time. You’re an insanely talented writer and maybe even a better photographer, James. It hurts my soul to see you wasting it doing nothing.”
“And now you now how I felt when you stopped playing violin and writing poetry.” he responded, the sudden silence casting a shadow over them. James put his pipe back in the bag after emptying the ash into the garbage can and then he turned to her. She moved to him, closing the space and putting her arms over his neck. He pulled her close, feeling the familiar curves of her body, the contours he had memorized over the years like a treasure map. It brought him a comfort he didn’t know he needed at this exact moment.
“You probably shouldn’t get this close, I don’t want to transfer any of my pot smell to your fancy power suit before work.” he said, half sincerely and half joking.
“Mhmm, it’s fine, you don’t smell like weed. Besides, this isn’t fancy, I got it at a thrift store.” She smiled, enjoying the warmth of his embrace.
“Hey, same.” he replied looking down at his own coat.
“You are the only person I’ve ever met who would have anything remotely this crazy happen to them, you know that?” she joked, a genuine smile on her face.
“That’s why you keep coming back, the spontaneity.” he chuckled “Next week when I accidentally summon Nyarlathotep in my office, you’re really gonna be in for it.”
She threw her head back in laughter and kissed his cheek. “Only you James can piss me off this much and then say exactly what I needed to hear to make my day better.”
He let go of her and she turned to leave. “Can I call you, Sadie?” he asked
“Call my dad first and then we can talk, ok? I love you.”
“I love you too.”
I had said that combination of words to her too many times to count and yet this time it felt… Foreign. Like I was telling a white lie to myself. I put the feeling out of my mind and poured myself another glass of whiskey, neat this time. I sat down at my desk and went to where the ad was. My mouse was right there, ready to click on the delete button for the posting and be done with it all, but some strange sort of magic, that’s the only way I can describe it, a sense of witchcraft… Compelled me to leave it up for just one more day. I fell asleep right there in my chair and awoke to the doorbell ringing at around 11:30 AM. I woke up and went to the front door, there was nobody there and no package. A single Russian nesting doll, red and white with a simple, child like painting quality to the faces stood in front of me. I looked around and picked up the doll, opening each one, peeling back the layers until I got to the smallest doll at the core. I opened it and a small slip of folded paper came out. I unfurled it slowly and the words “Butcher, Baker, Peacock and Dove” was written on it, the handwriting lavish and delicate, a woman had clearly written it. I returned to my desk and started to get to work again the only way I knew how. With my longest friend old no. 7.