He could think of a lot of things he'd rather be doing now, anything really, except sitting outside the FID offices waiting to see the queen. She knew he was waiting, and she was keeping him waiting. That really was irritating him. Of course, aside from work, anything else he could be doing required a place to go or money to spend. Right now, he didn't have anything to offer.
"Alright, Detective, let's go," he heard and snapped up his head. His mind had been wandering. In fact, it was still rather cloudy. He glanced at his watch and frowned, noting his mind had been wandering for some time now. It was already 8:15; he'd been waiting for 45 minutes because, when the queen summoned you, you came or you faced the consequences. Of course, he was about to face them anyway. He looked up toward her to find her standing there, her hand on the doorknob, and she was looking over to her secretary. "Candace, would you please file that paperwork I put on your desk before you came in this morning? I finished with it." Andy glanced to the secretary. That woman had arrived at 8:00, even after he'd arrived. Raydor was certainly getting going early. He tried to make eye contact with the secretary to convey his sympathy; working for Raydor would be no picnic. He didn't make eye contact with her, but as he turned toward Raydor, he felt her eyes burning into the back of his head. He jumped slightly to find her standing there, arms crossed, with a stoic face. She just had a look to her, one that conveyed she wasn't about to cut him any slack or give him another chance. His last days at the LAPD were upon him, and it was time to face the music.
"This way," she gestured and spun around to walk first into her office. He followed and stood while she walked around to her desk. She did seem to appreciate his professionalism, at least in this area and returned it with a nod and gesture to the chair across from her desk. "Let's get started."
Andy nodded, and he sat. As he did, he heard the door close and looked over to see the secretary closing the door. No one had asked; she knew to close the door. She knew the situation was bad. "So," he snapped his head back to the desk to see Raydor there flipping open his large, his very large file, "let's hear it-explain yourself."
Andy sighed. He let out a long, loud sigh and dropped his head. He knew that wouldn't help the situation so he quickly sat up, sat back, and he crossed his leg, trying to look like he was trying. He folded his hands in his lap and glanced up to find her staring right at him waiting for an explanation.
"Look," he said quietly as he started to speak, "you can fire me. Just drop the hammer."
"Your explanation, please," she repeated and cleared her voice.
"Fine," he waved his hand flippantly. "It's no secret that I was in rehab. As you know, I completed it six months ago. I was sent there, to a 60-day program. As you also know, that was a stipulation of keeping my job, at least before. Your little department idiot handled that. I know it's bad now if I've been kicked up the chain to you. Back then, I had to attend a rehab program. I did, and I completed it as the LAPD requested. To plead my case, there was no stipulation that I would be fired if I slipped. It happens," he sighed. "I didn't want it to happen, but it does. Quite frankly, I'm glad I made it to six months. I'll start again, tonight," he said as he continued to nod. "I'll go to AA, get my one-day chip, and I'll work the program. I know that you are well within your rights to fire me, but I guess I'm begging."
"Why did you slip?" Raydor asked as she wrote some notes in her file. "Something made you want to drink. What happened this time?"
"Everything, nothing," he said. "It's my whole life, but it's the fact I have no life. I guess I hit the last straw."
"I'm trying to note a reason, and I know you have a lot on your mind, but I need something concrete," she explained.
He nodded again, "I lost everything. Drinking cost me my family. That came first. Drinking almost cost me my job. That came second, and that is what got me going to rehab. Since then, I've been trying. The program talks about working the steps and trying, trying to stay sober and trying to make amends. I've been doing that. Problem is today, I finally lost it all. My family hates me. I can't see my kids. Looks like my job is about to go. I have no money, absolutely none, and that's now evident that I have nowhere to live-because Provenza's couch doesn't count, and I have no car. Today, that was the last straw with my car. It was repossessed. Why? I can't pay my bills. Sure," he threw up his hands, "I have a job. I'm working as much as I can. My crappy lawyer worked the worst deal with my ex, not that I'm complaining about child support; that part is fine, more than fine. I just lost everything. I pay for a lot of the house and all, but I don't live there. Then, any money I had left after paying out all of that now goes to the rehab bill. That wasn't cheap, and I still have a lot to cover with my part of that. I can't make ends meet. I've been staying with Provenza because I lost my crappy apartment-good riddance. That went when I left for rehab, but I thought I'd get something when I got out. Honestly, between you and me, rehab was a good place to land for a couple months. So, I pay everything to my family-even though they hate me and to the rehab bill. I owe money to my sister still for the loan she gave me. She's not demanding it yet, but I will make good on my word. I guess just fire me like I expect. I'm at the bottom, and the bar fight tonight was just me being frustrated. No family, no life, no place to live, no car, and more than likely, no job." Andy slumped back in the chair as if that explanation had completely exhausted him. He was exhausted, emotionally and mentally. He'd been up most of the night with the bar fight, just dozing in the cell earlier. He looked up to gauge her relaxation after his explanation. She was nodding as she wrote.
"Tell me about the car, about how you lost that," she said to him, just briefly glancing at him. He closed his eyes. She was stone-cold. He had heard it; he'd seen it. She was doing it now. She was all fact, no empathy. It was going to be a long morning, and he just wanted to finish with her to go. He couldn't even say he wanted to go home because hanging on Provenza's couch was not exactly the 'Home Sweet Home' experience he wanted.
"It's just gone," he shook his head. "I couldn't make the payments, even on the piece of junk car I had. It's gone. I have pretty much nothing to my name. I'll figure it out. I'll do something, anything really, for a job. I'll keep staying with Provenza as long as he'll have me. So, can you just give it to me straight?"
"Let's talk," she said, finally looking up at him and folding her hands on her desk. She had no expression on his face. Man, he just wanted to be done with her and soon.
