James Conway - In Cold Blonde

But that was it, just four messages. Not the one he was hoping for. Not the one he was counting on.

Ryan showered and dressed quickly. He put on his blue suit instead of his usual sport coat and slacks. He knew he’d finally have to face all those microphones today and he wanted to look his best.

He thought about his father’s last appearance in front of the press. He stood atop the steps of the Criminal Courts Building declaring his innocence and predicting a jury of his peers would find him not guilty of tax fraud.

It was a marvelous performance that convinced everyone but the jury.

Years later, when his father was dying, Ryan went to visit him in prison.

“Any regrets?” Ryan asked.

“Yes,” his father said recalling that fateful day in court. “I should have worn my blue suit.”

But that was Ryan’s father. Live life and never apologize. “Life is not a dress rehearsal,” he’d tell the young Ryan as one wife would leave and another would move in. “There are no second chances, no do-overs. Savor every day.”

And his father did. Even his time in jail. He never looked back, never second-guessed. He’d come to his crossroad, made a decision and walked proudly to the end of the road.

But Ryan’s father never considered other’s feelings in his calculations. As far as Joseph Magee was concerned, the world revolved around him; he was the star of the show and everyone else was an extra.

It must have been nice to be that emotionally isolated, Ryan thought. It may have been wrong by a lot of people’s standards, but it gave his father comfort every day. Right or wrong, his father knew who he was.

And up until this moment, Ryan thought he had a pretty good idea who Ryan Magee was. He tried to be fair, honest, hard working, not too judgmental (tough when you’re a cop) and a fair arbiter of right and wrong.

But Ryan suddenly realized that a man can’t really define himself until every tenet he thought he believed in is pushed to the limit. Ryan never thought of himself as greedy, but he suddenly understood the value of committing fraud to collect thirty-four million dollars. The hopes and dreams of so many people depended on him taking that Lotto money, and as Anne said, if you don’t take it, no one gets it.

Ryan never thought of himself as naïve, but Anne had manipulated him with ease.

Ryan cherished his integrity, yet he’d slept with Anne, betraying Syd.

Ryan’s carefully constructed self-image had disintegrated under pressure, and he had to accept the fact that life is not black or white. We’re often forced to live in the gray area and our ability to navigate those waters is what really defines you. And so far, he wasn’t doing too well.

Ryan looked in the mirror and straightened his tie. But all that was prologue, Ryan decided. All that mattered now was what he did today.

But he still needed a little help from his friends.

Lucinda McCarthy, vice-president of the California Lottery, was thrilled. “Just look at all the media,” she said to Anne. “I haven’t seen this much excitement since Raul Hernandez won fifty-four million dollars in 1985.” They were standing in the middle of the Studio City Holiday Inn ballroom as news crews from CBS, NBC, ABC, FOX, Channel 5, Channel 9, CNN and even Univision set up around them. There were also a growing number of well-wishers; uniformed cops, detectives, friends Ryan had made over the years. “Of course, that was only the Lotto’s second year,” Lucinda went on. “And it was our biggest jackpot to date so simply everybody was clamoring for an interview. These days we have to give away handfuls of Scratchers just to get the local channels to show up.”

“Yeah, well, Detective Magee has become quite the celebrity.”

Lucinda’s eyes searched the room. “Is he here yet, I’m dying to meet him.”

Anne scanned the room, too. “No, not yet.” And he hasn’t called me, Anne thought. I hope nothing’s wrong. Then Anne spotted someone she wanted to talk to almost as much as Ryan. Syd. Okay, Anne thought. This should be fun. “Excuse me, Lucinda, there’s someone I need to see.”

“Of course, I’ll see you in a bit and, oh, before I forget,” Lucinda handed Anne a manila envelope. “Here’s what I call my Survival Guide for Lotto Winners. A list of names and numbers of some wonderful professionals who can help Ryan access the full potential of good fortune.”

And all related to you, no doubt Anne thought. “Thank you, I’ll make sure Ryan gets this.” Anne tucked the envelope under her arm, weaved her way through the camera and cables to the other side of the room where Syd was pouring herself a cup of coffee from a refreshment table.

Syd saw Anne coming. And Anne’s body language and attitude sent alarm bells ringing in Syd’s brain. Anne projected a sense of smug superiority and worse, ownership; ownership of the thing Syd held most dear. Ryan.

“Detective Curtis,” Anne said, extending her hand. “Anne Rogers, we met in the bullpen.”

“I remember,” Syd said with a smile, but she ignored Anne’s outstretched hand, leaving it hanging awkwardly between them.

“So it’s going to be like that,” Anne said. “And I was hoping we could be friends.”

“No you weren’t,” Syd said.

“You’re right,” Anne said, lowering her hand. “I wasn’t.” Anne decided to play a bit with her prey before she finished her off. “Actually, I’m surprised you’re here.”

“Really, and why’s that?”

“Well, after what happened between Ryan and me last night, I thought…” Anne trailed off correctly reading the desperate curiosity in Syd’s face. “Ryan is such a wonderful lover,” Anne said, knowing each syllable pierced Syd’s heart. “I was a fool to ever leave him, a mistake, by the way, I won’t make again.”

So there it was, Syd thought. Ryan did sleep with her. The final, delicate strands of hope elevating Syd’s spirit snapped.

“Did he happen to mention our reunion last night?” Anne asked.

It took a real effort for Syd not to slap the smugness off Anne’s face. But, not willing to give this bitch an inch, Syd said, “No, we were a little preoccupied.”

“Ah, yes, the Lady in Red, of course. Congrats.” Something caught Anne’s eye, Ryan was walking into the ballroom, and as much as Anne was looking forward to delivering the coup de grace on Syd, she wanted to talk to Ryan more than anything. “Let’s talk later,” Anne said and stepped past Syd, crossing the ballroom toward the door.

Syd turned to see what had distracted Anne, and as she’d expected, it was Ryan. Well, Syd thought, he can have his greedy bitch and he can have his stolen Lotto money. I’m out of here. Syd stepped back out of sight, and as reporters and friends called out to Ryan, Syd slipped out the ballroom door.

Anne noticed Syd’s exit and smiled victoriously.

Meanwhile, Ryan’s eyes were riveted on his cell phone. He just received a text message and as he read it, he smiled. He snapped his phone closed as Anne reached him.

“Darling,” she said opening her arms and stepping towards him.

He put his hands out, catching her at the waist and keeping her at arm’s length. “Morning,” he said stiffly, his eyes searching the room.

Whoa, thought Anne. Something’s up. What the hell’s happened?

“Have you seen Syd?” Ryan asked.

“No,” Anne said innocently, making a show of looking for her.

“She told me she’d be here,” Ryan said, frustrated.

“Is everything all right, Ryan?” Anne asked. “I’ve called you a couple of times this morning and — ”

“Everything is great,” Ryan interrupted. “But I’ve changed my mind about a couple of things.”