Scott Sherman - Third You Die

Therefore, I had no idea of the hotel’s geography and where Payne was hustling me with the cool efficiency of a skilled bodyguard. Or a hitman. His paternal authority invited no questions, either. It was all “Come-with-me-if-you-want-to-live.”

On my other side, O’Brien walked in lockstep. He didn’t have Payne’s natural aura of control, but he kept me between them, reinforcing the sense that I was better off going along quietly.

We arrived at what appeared to be a meeting room, its twin doors closed. From inside, I heard murmurs over an amplified voice that I couldn’t quite make out. As my ears adjusted, I understood the last words of what sounded like an introduction.

The speaker’s voice was loud but slightly distorted through the sound system. It was recognizable, but I couldn’t quite place it. He had a strong New York accent. An older man, somewhere in his sixties or seventies, I’d guess. “… the man of the hour himself. Congratulations on this highest of tributes.”

Was I here for some kind of show?

Apparently so.

Payne opened one of the doors and pushed me inside.

“Just stand with me in the back,” he whispered. “Looks like we got here just in time.”

The man on the stage stood in the center of a bright spotlight. The room had been set up for a dinner. I’d guess about a hundred tables, each of which sat ten, faced the front of the room. A huge panel of LCD monitors, which combined to form a single image, dominated the back wall.

The room was so darkened that it was impossible to make out the audience.

The monitors showed the face of the man who’d just finished speaking. Now I knew who it was. The city’s current mayor, a pretty popular Independent who’d risen to prominence in the business world before entering politics, waited for the next speaker to come to the stage.

The image behind the mayor flickered and was replaced by a blue-and-white logo for the New York City Police Department. A string of letters ran across the bottom of the screen: The Police Officer’s Public Service Division’s Detective of the Year: Tony Rinaldi.

The words were greeted with riotous applause, as was the man who made his way to the stage.

Tony.

My Tony.

Who’d taken his mother to this dinner instead of me.

Who was ashamed of me.

Who’d walked out on me and never looked back.

All of which led to the obvious question: What the hell was I doing here now?

The mayor greeted Tony warmly and handed him a bronze plaque. They posed briefly for a photo together, and the mayor grinned as if they’d been best friends for years. The camera flashed, the mayor’s job was done, and he walked off stage with the distracted look of a man thinking about whatever Comes Next.

For the first five minutes of Tony’s speech, my heart was pounding so loud it drowned out whatever Tony said. I caught the big themes. It was his privilege to serve. He’d always tried to work on behalf of the public. He thanked his fellow officers who’d awarded him this humbling honor.

Although most of what he said was a drone to me, I couldn’t help but be proud of how assured he seemed. What a confident speaker he was. Not to mention how breathtakingly beautiful he looked, bathed in the spotlight’s glow like a vision of masculine perfection. I doubted there was ever an actor on Oscar night who looked better onstage.

With his natural charisma and easy charm he held the audience in the palm of his hand.

Having been there myself, in more ways than one, I knew what a nice place that was.

Eventually, my-what? Anxiety? Excitement? Hope? Whatever I was feeling, it began to calm down and I was able to hear what he was saying.

“Part of this plaque,” Tony said, referring to the trophy in his hands, “says it’s due to my ‘outstanding courage in the face of danger.’ And I suppose that’s true. If there’s a situation where I can count on my fellow officers, or my wits, or my training, or, worst come to worst, my gun-to save a life or protect an innocent, I’m prepared to make a stand.

“But tonight, I have to make a confession. Behind this badge, it’s easy to be brave. But to be honest, in my personal life, I haven’t held myself to the same standards. There I’ve allowed fear and shame to rule me.”

There was a slight quaver in his voice. What he was about to say wasn’t easy. That he could say it at all made my heart want to burst.

“But no more. There comes a point where you have to man up. Where you have to take a stand. For me, that time is tonight. Surrounded by my friends. My family. And my extended family-the men and women in blue who put their lives on the line every day for this city.”

That elicited a hearty round of applause. I don’t think anyone suspected where Tony was going with this-at least, where I hoped this was going-but he had them on his side.

“For a long time now, I’ve been in love with someone whom I’ve kept a secret. A person who I was afraid to acknowledge as the most important thing in the world to me. A true partner. A lover. A soul mate.

“No longer. Tonight, I tell you all the truth.”

Tony paused. For a moment, he looked lost. The room was so quiet you could have heard a pubic hair drop.

“Could you…” Tony paused for a moment and looked up, toward where I imagined the control booth was. “Do you think you could turn up the house lights a little?”

Whoever was controlling the A/V equipment complied. He slightly increased the ambient lighting.

“Rafi?” Tony asked, squinting against the spotlight. “Could you come up here?”

Rafi? What was he doing there?

The audience burst into laughter and applause as the exuberant five-year-old, looking all kinds of adorable with his curly hair and rented tux, ran to the stage. Tony knelt and held out his arms. He scooped up his boy and held him tightly.

“You remember what we talked about before tonight? About how this was going to go down?”

Rafi nodded enthusiastically. “I do, Dad!”

His pip-squeaked reply brought more laughs and cheers.

I doubt P.T. Barnum could have planned this better.

“You okay with it, buddy? Because if not, you don’t have to do it.”

“I am!”

“You sure?”

“I want you to do it, Daddy! And just like you told me, I brought the-”

Tony clasped his hand over Rafi’s mouth. “Not yet, Rafster. Let’s leave something as a surprise, okay?”

Mouth covered, Rafi opened his eyes wider in an attempt to communicate. He nodded eagerly. This elicited several “oohs” and “ahhs” from the crowd.

“All right, then,” Tony said. “It’s time I showed some of the courage I’ve brought to this job in my personal life.” He put his open hand over his eyes as if scanning the back of the room. “Payne, O’Brien, I hope you guys came through for me… Kevin, are you there?”

The crowd suddenly fell silent. The good-natured tittering Rafi’s antics elicited stopped dead.

Kevin? What kind of girl was named Kevin?

All eyes turned to the back of the room where Tony seemed to peer.

My mouth felt full of cotton. I tried to speak but nothing came out.

“Damn, boy,” Payne nudged. “Haven’t you been waiting for this? Answer your man!”

I tried again.

There was no air.

“Well, at least get your ass up there!” Payne commanded.

Tried that, too.

Someone had bolted my legs to the ground.

O’Brien let out an exasperated sigh.

“We’re on our way!” he called.

O’Brien wasn’t subtle. He pushed me forward like a man being thrown in front of a firing squad. Forward momentum kept me moving toward the stage. I found myself standing next to Tony with no memory of how I’d gotten there. I looked at the crowd, but the overwhelming glare of the spotlight prevented me from making out any detail.