Mike Faricy - Bombshell

Donny nodded his agreement.

I continued to look out the window. The Foundry bar was off on the left hand side. We were driving over 35E then heading up the Maryland Avenue hill. I picked up a girl at the Foundry one night a couple of years ago, or did she pick me up? I couldn’t recall. Traci, Toni, Tina, I tried to recall her name. I remembered she’d had a lacy tattoo on her lower back running from hip to hip. Red roses, with little stars and a banner in the center across a large heart that read ‘ Pleased to Meet You ’.

I just concentrated on trying to remember her name and hoped these two delivered me into Manning’s protective custody sooner rather than later.

“Not only that,” Donny said, he was turning onto Payne Avenue, heading back toward the station, ten minutes, tops, I guessed. “What does that do to the sense of morality in the country? Like it isn’t tough enough teaching kids the lessons of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.” Passenger seat gave him a look that suggested they’d most likely reached the end of their probing routine.

Tally, Teresa, Twyla, I concentrated, kept trying to come up with her name. She had black hair a little more than shoulder length, black hair with white blonde streaks. She had a little diamond pierced on the left side of her nose. She’d had a belly button ring with a large blue stone. My head was throbbing.

“You follow that Roller Derby much,” Donny asked. It was his last shot, we were pulling up in front of the building, parking almost exactly where the luscious Officer Trang had parked earlier yesterday. His voice sounded hopeful, but his eyes reflected the same lifeless grey in the rear view mirror.

“Give it a rest, Donny,” passenger seat said. “They’re waiting for you up in interview room one, asshole.” Then he groaned as he climbed out and stepped over to open the rear door for me.

Interview room one, at least I’d be in familiar surroundings.

“Tonya,” I said, as he helped me out.

“What?”

“Tonya, the girl at the Foundry, with the blonde streaks in her hair, ‘ Pleased to Meet You ’ tattooed on her lower back.”

I hadn’t been seated at the table in the interview room for more than a couple of minutes before the door opened and Louie came bouncing in, Manning was right behind him.

“So, how’d it go public enemy…” Louie’s eyes went wide as he looked at me beaten up, bloody and bruised. He rushed over to me, tossing his briefcase onto the floor.

“Been better,” I gurgled, then coughed up some more blood.

“What the…” Louie started to say.

“Jesus Christ, what the hell happened?” Manning asked. He hadn’t moved more than a couple of feet into the room and sounded genuinely concerned.

Louie turned on him and exploded. “This is your idea of cooperation? You beat the shit out of the guy. What the hell is wrong with you idiots? The deal is off, right now, we’re finished. Tell your people to get ready for a brutality suit, this is…”

Manning had already picked up the wall phone, and waved Louie quiet.

“Interview room one, now, we need medical assistance. Now, goddamnit! And find Elkers, I want him in here.” He shook his head as he listened to some sort of response, all the while saying “no, no, no,” in a low voice. All of a sudden he erupted into the phone. “I don’t care who in the hell he’s meeting with, you tell him interview room one, now,” he screamed and slammed the receiver back into place. He took a deep breath and turned to face us.

I attempted to shrug my shoulders and smile, but it hurt so much I stopped halfway through.

“Jesus, you attempt to resist arrest?” Manning smiled, but his heart wasn’t in the joke and his head was quickly growing from scarlet to purple.

“We are so fucking through with this agreement to cooperate and you are going to have one hell of a lawsuit on…”

“Look, I have no idea what happened, we were supposed to send a squad to bring you in, some news cameras. What the hell happened?”

I gave a half-hearted shrug and grimaced for added effect.

“Give me a couple of minutes to find…”

There was a knock on the door and two EMT’s hurried in wheeling a stretcher with a black medical bag sitting on top of it. They wore navy blue trousers and short sleeved white shirts with a red fire department patch on the shoulder. They were pulling on surgical gloves over their hands.

Manning jerked his scarlet head in my direction. Louie took a step back as they approached, patted me on the shoulder, said, “Hang in there buddy.” Then, motioned Manning to a distant corner of the interview room.

The EMT’s started in with a blood pressure cuff and a pen light shinning in my eyes. With them hovering over me and asking questions I couldn’t see or hear exactly what was said between Louie and Manning, but most of it seemed to be unpleasant and sounded like it was coming from Louie. There was just the occasional word or grunt of acquiescence from Manning.

The EMT’s were applying creams to my cheek bone and then a bandage, “You’re not going to need stitches, it’s just a little raw.” Once they cleaned up my face they smeared some sort of menthol salve on my lips that burned and reminded me of a bad curry dish I’d gotten sick on a while back.

“How many times has that nose been broken?” one of them asked as he knelt down in front of me. He was a red headed guy, average size, lots of freckles, soft voice.

“More than twice,” I said, and then coughed more blood.

“I’m gonna reset it, if that’s okay, it will help clear up those air passages. That all right with you?”

“Go for it, Doc,” I said, then grabbed onto the side of the table for support.

He placed his hands on either side of my nose and gave a brief look at his partner who opened the medical bag and slowly pulled something out.

I glanced down to see what the partner was getting, felt a sudden pressure and heard an audible snap.

“Ouch, Jesus,” I half screamed.

Manning and Louie looked over in our direction.

“There,” he said,” back to a thing of beauty. You’ll live, but you probably know the drill, swelling for a few days, eyes will blacken. This will help open that up,” he said. Then pulled out a reddish rubber ball thing with a small pointed end, the thing looked like a miniature turkey baster. He gently inserted it into my nasal passage.

“Just aspirating here, get some of that blood and mucus out. Believe me, this will be a lot better than trying to blow it out later tonight.”

The door opened and Captain Elkers stepped in. He took one look at me, saw the conference in the corner and headed toward Manning. Before the door closed completely Aaron LaZelle pushed the door open and entered the room.

Aaron took one look at me, mouthed the word ‘fuck’ and joined the conference heating up in the corner.

I winced as the one of the EMT’s placed some pressure on my ribs.

“Oh, what’s this?” he said, lifting a stethoscope from around his neck.

“Someone tried to get my attention,” I grimaced and exhaled.

“Let me just lift that shirt, mmm-mmm,” he said looking over my rib cage. “Anything here,” he asked pressing up and down my left side.

“No nothing.”

“And here,” he said, doing the same on my right, but a lot more gently.

“Yeah, oh Jesus, yeah that hurts.”

He was on it with the stethoscope, gently, listening to my breathing.

“I want you to raise your arms to shoulder height, take some deep breaths if you can, okay?”

I nodded, did the deep breath routine. It was sore, but not as bad as I’d feared. My guess was they weren’t broken.