He flipped a stack of bills on the counter and waved at the cashier, a look that told the cashier he didn't have a care in the world. He watched the cashier put two bags on the counter and collect the stack of bills that had scattered, "Keep the change," Andy grumbled. The cashier finished counting the money and just nodded as he did so.
"Ahh, you sure? There's almost double here to what you owe," the cashier gestured at the money.
"I have no use for it right now; just take it. What do I care?" Andy snarled.
Break up or let me guess-this is to get through a family Christmas party?"the cashier, being nosy, asked as he nodded at the bags, eyeing Andy. "Could be worse-you could be stuck here working every single day through Christmas like me. Yeah, we're open Christmas, busy time for us."
"Nope," Andy said crisply. "No party for me, no interest in a party. Party for one, actually, maybe two if I'm lucky," he said with a nonchalant shrug. "I'm out, in more ways than one. Keep the change," he nodded again to the cashier.
"You already said that," the young man said, now looking at Andy questionably.
"Then you should know I mean it. No use for me. It's just money, worthless really, at least when you see the horrible things I do. What's money if you are dead? Whatever, I'm getting out of here."
"Have a good night," the clerk called to Andy out of habit. Andy paused at the door, his hands grasping the two bags, and he frowned.
"Nothing good about it, but that's what this is for," he held up the bags. He quietly walked to his car and checked his surroundings before unlocking and dropping into his car. Even though his stabbing had now been a year ago, he still thought of it often, especially at night when he was in an area of town he didn't frequent, as he was now. It had been another crappy day, crappier than most, actually. Life wasn't fair. It wasn't worth trying, was it? So much of it seemed to hinge on luck, and in his line of work, people seemed to have pretty bad luck. His luck had run out too; he knew it, and it was time to just face the music. He could drown his sorrows. After leaving work, he'd been just driving around, looking for the answer to his night, and he'd found it. Andy pulled the bottle out of the brown paper bag and looked at it. He could make all of his problems go away; the bottle in his hand would do that, at least for awhile. That's all he needed, to make his problems go away. He'd done it before, and he knew that the bottle in his hand would help him forget for at least a little while. That's all he needed. Of course, he wasn't stupid enough to believe the bottle was the end all to solving every problem. Life was hard. The bottle would help for now, help him forget. She was so young with a full life to lead. She didn't have to die. He could still see her face. Andy had been in his car when he glanced over at her on her scooter. She had smiled; he had smiled, and then, in an instant, she was dead, flying through the air, the victim of the bottle.
It seemed ironic that he wanted to find solace in the bottle, the same bottle that had been a contributing factor to Gracie's death, but addictions were like that. There wasn't always a clear-cut answer or a solution that made sense. The bottle was comfortable. The bottle was an escape. He needed an escape now. Life wasn't fair. It was a theme he saw every single day at work. Some days were harder than others. Today was one of those days.
Andy put the two bags containing two bottles in his passenger seat. He was at least smart enough to not drink and drive. He could drink alone, sure. He'd done it before, but if he was going to throw away his sobriety, it would be better to do it with drinking buddy. He thought a moment and then put the car in drive. It didn't take him long to navigate the streets of Los Angeles. They were not empty; they were never empty in this city, but they were almost lonely, a dark loneliness. He glanced at his clock. It was almost midnight, almost the start of a new day. He didn't know where the last few hours had gone; it was all a haze. He'd been driving around aimlessly and just found himself wandering the aisles of the liquor store, a place that felt comfortable again. Yes, he needed to do this tonight. Andy looked over at the bottles again, two, a pair, two, so one wouldn't be lonely. A bottle for him and a bottle to share-yes, who needed sobriety?
Minutes later he found himself knocking on the door with his car key. That sound seemed to echo around him, almost a haunting sound. He knocked again and looked to the two bags in his left hand. He could just stand here and start his drinking now. It didn't matter, but what was another couple of minutes after years of sobriety?
Andy heard the chain and lock rattle before the door opened. He didn't even bother to put on a good show, to stand up straight or check his appearance. He knew he looked bad; he just didn't care. His shirt was rumpled, half of it tucked in and half sticking out around his waist. He still had on his tie, but it was now in a loose mess. His hair was disheveled after running his hands through it over and over again. He looked again to the bottles and snapped his head up as he heard the door open.
"Lieutenant Flynn? What on earth are you doing here?" Sharon asked, pulling a robe or long sweater-whatever she was wearing-tighter around her body. "I almost didn't open the door even after I checked the peephole.
"It's your lucky day, Cap," he flashed an irritated smirk at her. "My visit is twofold. Your prize tonight with my visit-you're in luck, as I just said. Your lucky day," he nodded, smirking again. "I've said that before, so maybe I should tell you it's your lucky day again. I'm going to just save you the trouble since I know what will happen tomorrow at work. See, and, "he held up his free hand in defense, "this is even if I show up for work-I'm going to end up in your office. Guarantee it. I'm about to get totally wasted, and I don't care. I wanted to save you the trouble, really save Chief the trouble of writing me up. You can have the pleasure directly tonight. Why wait for me to show up intoxicated at work when you can just start things here? Go ahead-do what you have to do. You've had me in your office before, even told me what I was going to throw away in my career if I started drinking again. Your lucky day," he nodded. "I'm ready to throw in the towel. The job does it; it has done it. It breaks you eventually, and tonight, I'm there."
Sharon crossed her arms and pursed her lips, as she listened to him. She nodded and looked to the ground as he spoke. When he finished, she looked up and met his gaze.
"Are you done with that? Now, you said you had two reasons to be here. I just heard one. What's the other, Lieutenant? Why are you here on my doorstep in the middle of the night?" Sharon asked.
Andy used his index finger to point at her as he chuckled, "You know, you are funny, your play on words. Didn't think you had it in you, Cap, saying anything funny."
"I'm sorry?" Sharon asked and shook her head. She narrowed her gaze at him and waited for a response.
"Middle of the night," he said to her. "It's what, exactly midnight? Is that defined as 'middle of the night' or just a figure of speech? I've never really thought about it. Regardless, you're right; I do have two reasons to be here. I should thank you for that, for being almost a one-stop-shop."
"Have you already started drinking?" Sharon asked, nodding to the bottles in his hand.
"No, not yet, not for lack of effort, though, maybe," he shook his head. "I don't even know what I'm saying right now. I have not started drinking, just so you know. You can note that in your report, but I'm about to drink as much as I can before I pass out. Then, when I wake up, I'll drink some more. Pass out, repeat-you get the idea. When work calls looking for me, I may or may not go in, may or may not explain what's going on. Like I said, I figure I'll save everyone the headache of trying to figure out what is going on with me. So, I'm here to turn myself in, so to speak."
"Yes," she sighed, her arms still crossed and shook her head. "You've made that clear. The other reason would be?" Sharon asked, eyeing him again. "Why are you here, Lieutenant Flynn, standing on my doorstep? Why have you decided to grace me with your presence late this evening?"
"I'm here to take your other half off your hands tonight. I know you two have a 'flexible' arrangement," he said, with emphasis on flexible. "I know he is able to come and go. Is he here? I figure if I'm going to throw in the towel tonight, he'll want to join me. I can't call any of the guys from AA to drink tonight, not exactly ready to get a lecture from any of them. I know your other half has trouble staying on the wagon and is off more than on, so I wanted to see if he would join me and kick back tonight. I've got two bottles here-one for me and one for a friend. I'm looking for a friend tonight. Jack around?"
Sharon pursed her lips again and made eye contact with Andy, "No, Jack is not here, and I don't know where he is. If you are looking for a friend, you'd be smart to call Lieutenant Provenza. As much as the two of you can irritate me, he would be a real friend and would tell you what you need to hear."
"I have no interest in a lecture," he threw a wave at her. "No Jack, then?"
Sharon dismissed his comment by ignoring it. She changed her stance and crossed her arms as she turned slightly, "How exactly did you get here? How do you know where I live?"
"You are well aware he and I used to frequent the same watering holes back in the day. Since I have been sober a long time, I haven't really seen him around. I guess he's just one of those people, like a friend you haven't seen in awhile-you know, when you do see them, you just pick up where you left off with them. I was hoping to drink with someone from my past. I haven't seen him much and hoped he might be here."
"Hmm, we have something in common then because I have not either. That doesn't answer my question about where I live. Jack has never lived in this condo with me," she pointed out at him.
"True, but remember last Christmas? You had no ride home after that crazy case because you had plans to go to Park City. After the Christmas party at the office ended, I dropped you here, you know," he smirked, "in the spirt Of Christmas. You had all that luggage and leftovers Chief's mom sent home with you. I helped you upstairs."
"Right," she said, slightly flustered, almost embarrassed she'd forgotten that. "Right."
"I was extending an olive branch then," he continued to smirk.
"More like I had extended the olive branch when I came to check on you with your stabbing, a couple weeks before that," she told him. "I needed you to answer some questions about the stabbing, sure, but the olive branch was the soup I brought."
"Fine, we're splitting hairs here," he rolled his eyes. "Consider it that I was paying back your kindness then."
Sharon just shook her head and looked to the ground, "You're making a mistake."
"That is an opinion, one I don't share tonight. Anyway, when you see my file on your desk in the morning, well, you've been warned," he threw her a wave and turned to leave. "Sorry I bothered you. Maybe I'll check the local watering hole for Jack before I just drink on my own."
"He won't be there," Sharon called to him, her arms crossed again in a defensive stance. Andy turned his head back at her, his eyebrows raised.
"He's not here, and you don't know where he is, but you're certain he won't be at the bar drinking? Okay, whatever," he gestured with his hand.
"Jack primarily lives in Las Vegas," she said with a bitterness in her tone. Andy paused and looked back at her. She gave him a small shrug, "He shows up here when he's been evicted or is out of money. I haven't seen him in over a year. That's how I know. If he was in town, he would have been by here trying to worm his way back inside and begging me for money. Drinking continues to get the best of him, and I'd caution you to consider that when you are thinking about taking a drink."
"I just need the pain to go away. Night, Cap," he nodded and started to the elevator.
"Lieutenant," Sharon called to him as he pushed the button on the elevator. "I do know a little about alcoholism. I know I can't talk you out of drinking, but before you do drink, perhaps you just let me do my job now and save me from having to call you in tomorrow. We can get this done here at my condo, you can go on your way, and tomorrow, when you don't show for work because you are drunk, well," she gave him a small smirk, "I've already done my paperwork. You'd be saving me the hassle then and helping me out. Considering you bothered me in the middle of the night, looking for my estranged husband, it's the least you can do."
Andy put his hand up on the wall, as if it was holding him up. He had both bags in one hand. The elevator opened, and he looked at it before he looked back at Sharon. He shook his head, not interested.
"I won't let you start drinking here, but get the report done now, and you can go on your way," she added. "Otherwise, tomorrow will worse than it needs to be, I mean, if you are already going to fall off the wagon. You choose-we will have to file a report for conduct unbecoming and probably a few other things either way. Now," she put her hand in the air, "or later."
He paused a moment, thinking before he let out his breath, "Fine, let's do your report now. You can file it tomorrow, telling everyone what a crappy cop I am, and we will both get what we want."
"Come inside," she gestured with her hand. "Have a seat at the kitchen table, please."