Whew, long day yesterday with three loads of lay brought in and unloaded, two more to do today if I get my way. In the meantime, here's some more story to enjoy. Happy Sunday y'alls.
Closing time at the diner was quickly approaching but Steve couldn't help it after a day like today.
Besides the few sore muscles begging him to sit down after playing punching bag for the almighty sake of furthering a case, he also longed to see Bethany again.
Despite their unequivocal differences, Steve couldn't deny the metaphysical energy drawing him straight back into her arms, no matter how much they both agreed that this was a bad idea in the making.
The twenty-minute fight through rush hour traffic had been worth every second as he sat down on the wrought-iron patio chair near the back corner of the fenced in courtyard of Carrie's diner, arriving just in time to see the setting sun shining through the red and white striped umbrellas, its rose light engulfing the few patrons left behind and complementing Beverly's high cheek bones beautifully.
His arrival had been duly noted with a faint smile, as she washed down a couple empty tables, before setting her supplies down and heading his way.
"Back so soon again, Detective?"
Her smile grew wider as she approached his table, placing the menu close enough that their hands touched for a brief second.
"I would have been back sooner but you know what they say about our lousy hours."
His comment, just a pinch too snippy, drew Beverly's attention and her warm eyes grew worried, as she stepper closer toward him.
"Another bad day with no leads, I take it?"
"Something like that…", Steve replied, fighting to push the memories of sweaty mats and arms wrapped around his throat out of his mind for the time being, "But I didn't come here to discuss work. I came here to see you."
Beverly glanced around for a second, making sure her remaining guests were taken care of, before sliding into the chair next to his.
"And yet, your work follows you wherever you go. You can't just take it off…like…like it's make-up."
He tried to answer, but hesitated when he saw Beverly draw in a deep breath, her eyes drifting across the street as she sorted her thoughts.
"You know, after last night, I've been doing some thinking, Steve. You see, when we met, I was in a difficult state of my life. I was torn. Questioned my purpose in all of this. My achievements. I questioned if I'd ever be able to escape the prison I had put myself into. And you helped me out of this mess without asking for anything in return. I suppose…I am just worried that in those three-some-years we haven't seen each other, that this…this courageous and feisty young man I met has locked himself into a prison cell too, surrounded by doubt, grief…maybe even anger. Perhaps you keep telling yourself that its part of the job, that what you see everyday gets to you after a while and that this is to be expected. That the loss of yourself is a noble sacrifice on your journey to right all the wrongs in this city."
When she finally looked back at him, her eyes were welling up with tears, and Beverly bit her lip to subdue them, then reached over to hold his hand.
"I owe you more than I can ever repay, Steve…but perhaps I can at least help you find the key to happiness again."
Grasping her hand with both of his, then pulling it up to kiss her palm, Steve was about to answer when he felt a tremor run through Beverly's body. As the young Inspector took his eyes off her delicate fingers and candy-apple-red nails, he noticed a figure standing by the small wooden fence surrounding the patio.
The mid-forties man with the unkempt medium length sandy hair stared at them intrigued, the slight swaying of his upper body signs of intoxication. With the wind tucking on the corners of his plaid red shirt, he slowly staggered toward them, his eyes never leaving Beverly.
"Steve! That's him. That's the man who came by here last week and…grabbed me.", she whispered, her voice filled with terror and shifted over in her chair, trying to cower behind him.
Not wasting any time, he stood up, one hand subconsciously brushing over the .38 on his left hip, eyes narrowed as he approached the suspicious man. Following the commotion intrigued, the conversation at the remaining two tables quieted down, as Steve walked past them.
"So, she rejects me and settles for a you?", the man stammered, using the fence line against his beer belly for balance, "That rotten piece of…of…a woman. I tell ya. Well, she got what she deserved."
"Step away from the fence and put your hands behind your head."
Feeling a slight tremor run through his own body, Steve approached the man who stood a foot taller than he was, probably outweighed him twice over too.
Despite the authority he'd put into his voice, the man merely chuckled, then gestured over at Beverly.
"This clown? This is what you hang out with? What does he have that I don't?"
He didn't have to glance over to know how uncomfortable the scene was for Beverly, and how scared she must be from the confrontation. Trying to contain the situation as best as possible, Steve reached for the badge in his coat pocket, then raised his voice again.
"Sir, stop talking to the lady, step away from the fence and put your hands behind your head. I am a San Francisco Police Officer."
"What, a man can't walk on the sidewalk anymore? What are you gonna try to arrest me for, kid?!"
Shoving the badge back into his coat pocket with shaking hands, Steve skipped over the fence, keeping several feet of distance to the other man.
"You are harassing this lady. A police report has been filed. I am putting you under arrest."
"Now wait a minute here!", the man barked and charged toward him, stopping just a few inches shy of running him over, "Who in the hell claimed that, eh? Did she do that? That's a lie. I am not harassing anybody. She was the one flirting with me last week, batting her eyes at me, touching my hand. She wanted all this. So leave me the hell alone! I am no criminal!"
Even though the man was tall enough that Steve stared at his chest, he swiftly pulled the handcuffs out of the waistband of his dress pants and slapped them onto his right wrist without another word. Trying to use his suspect's larger frame to his advantage, he stepped around to reach his back, hoping to get a hold of the other hand for a smooth arrest, before the man would even know what had happened.
Unfortunately, Steve overlooked the elbow heading straight for his face.