"Godzilla and The Smog Monster"
Chapter Eleven
Speaking of staring anxiously at the nightclub's front entrance…
Brice saw Gage exit the building and breathed a silent sigh of relief. His relief was short-lived, however, as he took in his partner's once dapper—now disheveled—appearance. The manager was apparently a hard person to talk to.
John's once-white shirt's tails had become un-tucked. His face was streaked with dirt. Why-y, he looked like he'd been crawling around in an alley!
But it was the fact that the paramedic was keeping a hand pressed over his left ribcage that was causing Craig the most concern. "John! Are you okay?"
Gage heard Brice address him by his first name. He glanced up from his ruined white dress shirt—the only one he owned—and flashed his concerned partner a grateful smile. "Yeah, Craig. I'm okay," he assured him and kept right on smiling. "I took a magic wand in the hardhat and a boot in the ribs, but I'm okay."
This time, Brice's sigh of relief was audible.
Gage glanced around. "Where are the girls?"
Craig motioned with his head in the direction of the disco. "I let them keep the bandages. And, when the crowd saw that our victims had recovered well enough to 'bump' and 'boogie' again, it added new life to the party."
John's smile broadened into a grin. "Great! I lo-ove happy endings!" He picked his helmet and turnout coat up from the sidewalk and slid his borrowed hardhat off.
"Karen wants you to keep that. And she says not to worry. Your 'secret' is safe with her."
Gage grimaced. "Yea-eah…right…my 'secret'. Man! I'd better go straighten her ou—"
"—Did they get the girl?" Lieutenant Bristol suddenly interrupted, as he came stepping up.
John nodded. "She was hiding out back, in a trash bin."
"I still don't get 'why' they wanted to rob us," Craig confessed. "We deliberately limit the amount of narcotics that we carry, so that we won't be targeted."
"Those kids were carrying enough cash on them to buy all the drugs their little hearts desired," Bristol came back. "Which tells me that they weren't doing it for the drugs. They were doing it for the excitement. They're just a bunch a' bored rich kids with too much time on their hands. I guess they figured stealing your drug box would be a lot more exciting than just going down to the street corner and purchasing drugs from a pusher."
Gage exchanged a look of disbelief with his partner and then turned back toward the club's front doors.
"If you're going to try to straighten Karen out, don't bother!" Brice advised. "I've already tried—twice!"
"You mean you told her the…?"
Brice nodded.
"And she still doesn't…?"
Craig shook his head.
John was flabbergasted. "B-Bu-ut…why-y?"
"She really seems to thrive on excitement. When the truth gets too dull for some people, they simply choose to believe something more exciting."
Gage saw that the Lieutenant was staring at his strange attire. "We got a run before I could get changed."
"That must be the truth," Bristol realized. "No one would ever 'make up' an excuse that dull."
The three men swapped smiles.
"See yahs!" the officer predicted and took his leave.
John noted that his partner had their equipment all safely locked away. "C'mon!" he urged. "I've had enough 'excitement' to last me the rest of the year!" He dragged himself up into their truck and collapsed onto its passenger seat. "The police nearly killed me back there!"
"We could've both been killed," Craig quietly admitted, as he slid back in behind the wheel. He started the Squad up and quickly pulled away from the Diamond Groove Disco. "John, I would like to apologize for calling you paranoid, earlier. It turns out you were completely justified in being so cautious. I…I still am puzzled as to how you knew we were going to run into trouble though." He shot his seemingly clairvoyant associate a questioning glance.
John flashed him back a wry smile. "You want the TRUTH? Or, something more 'exciting'?"
Craig couldn't help but smile.
"I tell yah what. I'll make it multiple choice. That way, you kin believe whatever you want. A: I figured any district where you have to keep all the compartments locked—all the time—has gotta be just crawling with criminal types! B: Because e-ver-y time I've ever gone on a response to a bar—around this time of night—something rotten always seems to happen to me. C: I wasn't sure at all—just a little paranoid. Or, D: All of the above."
"C is definitely the dullest. So it is obviously the truth. But I prefer to believe D."
"I guess C is closer to the truth than any of them. But, if I am paranoid, it's because B is also true! It's true!" he repeated, upon receiving a skeptical glance. "I hate bars! I stepped out of one four years ago and became the victim of a hit and run driver. I stepped into one last Spring and became the victim of a black eye."
"I thought you got that black eye when that bookcase hit you."
"I tell yah, it sure felt like he hit me with a bookcase. But it was only his fist. And it's not just here in LA, either. I stepped into a bar in Seattle two weeks ago and ended up having to spend five days locked in Quarantine. And then tonight—we-ell, tonight speaks for itself!"
"I confess that bad experiences have conditioned me and influenced my behavior, as well. In fact, I'm certain that is why I feel so strongly about keeping the compartment doors locked."
"You had a bad experience along those lines?"
Craig nodded. "It happened when I first started working as a paramedic. We were called out to a response in a…ba-ad neighborhood. When we arrived, we were told that the victim's heart had arrested. So we just grabbed our gear and left…without taking the time to lock the compartments. When my partner and I returned, we discovered that a bunch of juvenile delinquents had completely stripped the truck."
"You're kidding!"
"Believe me. Nobody would ever 'make up' a story that embarrassing."
"Well then, how come I've never heard about it before?"
"Probably because you don't read any Boston newspapers. It made the front page of every one but one—the one my uncle owns."
John had just been rendered speechless. It was a block or two before he could recover his voice. "You…were a paramedic…in BOSTON?"
Craig nodded. "I was born there. My family owns a sizeable portion of North Boston. I'd probably still be living there…if it weren't for what I just told you."
"How come you don't have a Boston accent?"
"I was born there, but I wasn't raised there. You see, my family thinks very highly of education. So, as soon as I was old enough, I was shipped off to private schools and military-type academies, in both the United States and Europe. I grew up in an extremely cold, impersonal, highly regimented environment. Which Melanie says accounts for my extremely cold, impersonal, highly regimented personality." He paused and turned to his once again dumbstruck partner. "Melanie is my fiancée."
'So-o…Roy's suspicions were correct!' John silently realized. He sat there for a few more blocks, staring at his temporary partner like he was seeing him for the first time. "Congratulations, Craig! I wish you both the very best!"
"Thank you, John. Melanie is the very best! She's highly intelligent, sensitive, wise beyond her years and…understanding. Melanie is the most understanding person in the world! I have never met anyone like her before in my life!" Brice paused to compose himself a bit. "Anyway, when she heard that WE were going to be working together tonight, she made me promise to 'try' to be more understanding towards you…and to 'try' to get you to understand me, as well. You see, Melanie feels that anybody could get along with anyone, if they could just understand one another. She feels that understanding is the most important step in developing any relationship—even temporary partnerships."
"And what do you feel, Craig?"
They rode along in silence for a few blocks.
"Embarrassed," Brice finally came back, "nervous...and terribly out of character. Being understanding isn't like me—at all. It's entirely new to me. In fact, until I met Melanie, I had never really tried to understand anybody before—including myself! But then, she helped me to understand who I was…and why I was. Then we got to understand one another…" his words trailed off. Craig composed himself again and continued. "Melanie makes me feel obligated to pass that understanding along. And, since we are working together, we might as well at least 'try' to get along. Wouldn't you agree?"
"Uh-uh…" John was still staring at his temporary partner as though he were seeing him for the very first time. "You'll have to excuse me. I'm in sort a' a state of shock, here. Yah see, I figured we'd be able to put up with one another. Heck! I can put up with just about anybody—or anything—for half a shift! But the thought of the two of us…actually getting along? We-ell…that's gonna take some getting used to!" he teased, and the two of them exchanged grins.
"I already feel I'm beginning to understand you," Craig confessed.
"We've only been on two calls together. I must be a very uncomplicated person to figure out."
"Actually, you are much more complicated than I had ever imagined. For instance, I used to think that you were the most reckless, irresponsible, immature paramedic in the entire department."
John sat forward in his seat. "Oh yea-eah?"
Craig nodded. "And now, I'm beginning to understand that—although you may present a carefree attitude on the outside—inside, you are an extremely self-conscious, level-headed, mature professional."
Gage's slightly miffed look was replaced by one of profound confusion. "You understand all that, do you?"
Another nod. "I'm also beginning to understand that—the reason you may get more bumps and bruises than most—is, because you seem to be willing to take more calculated risks than most…because you are obviously more dedicated than most."
Gage gradually recovered from his 'understanding' partner's profound comments. "Now that you've brought it up…I-I used to think you were the dullest, most arrogant, most conceited paramedic in the entire department."
"I was," Craig calmly confessed.
The two swapped glances and grins.
John sank back in his seat, again. "Yah know, I think I'm beginning to understand you, too…or, at least, to accept you," he clarified, wanting desperately to keep things completely honest between them.
Brice was pleased to hear both the comment and the honesty. "Melanie says that acceptance is the very basis of understanding."
"Yea-eah. Yah know, learning a little bit about your background really does help me to understand you better. And, working with you has allowed me to see three sides of your personality I've never seen before. You really are as talented as you've always claimed to be! You have a pretty wild imagination! A-and a great sense of humor! I cannot believe you actually have a sense of humor," he stopped suddenly, looking more lost and confused than ever. "Ma-an! I can't believe we're sitting here having this conversation…"
"I know," Brice agreed. "I'm having a little difficulty understanding it, myself."
The two partners turned to one another…and traded grins—again.
TBC