Michael Slade - Headhunter

"No way," the man said, regaining balance. She looked at her watch.

"We better make for Sea-Tac," Katherine Spann said. "Let's hail a taxi or we're going to miss our plane."

Scarlett didn't move. Instead he grabbed her by the arm. They were standing at the top of a wooden staircase that led to the street below. Stretched out before them was the black of Elliott Bay.

"I guess this must really be something for you, eh?"

"What do you mean?" Spann said. "Do you always talk in riddles?"

"I mean what with you being a woman, and making Corporal and all. That's quite an achievement. You're one of the first."

The woman shook her head as if in disappointment. "Rick," she said quietly, "I'm the same age as you. I've been a cop just as long as you have. And you made Corporal too. What does being a woman have to do with this promotion?"

Scarlett shrugged his shoulders. "You know what I mean."

"No, Rick. I don't."

"Look, Kathy. My father was a member of this Force back on the prairies. For as long as I can remember I have wanted to be in the RCMP. That's how I come to be here."

"So? I come to be here because…"

"Because of feminism and the liberation of women. It's written all over you."

"Oh, is that so?"

"You bet. You thrive on besting men within a domain that has been traditionally male. For you it's a challenge, and I admire that."

"Is that how you see it?"

"Yes, and so should you. If you don't recognize that, you're just being blind."

"And just who am I talking to? Is this Rick Scarlett speaking? Or is it two bottles of Chateauneuf du Pape?"

"I'm not drunk."

"I think you are."

"Come on, Kathy, admit it. Be honest with yourself. Deep down inside you're just like the rest of us. You want power. And you like to get ahead. There's nothing wrong with that."

"Come on. Rick, let's…"

"And you like to get fucked."

Katherine Spann frowned and took a step away from him.

"Don't look so shocked. It's not against the law."

Again the woman shook her head. "Let's catch that plane."

"Let's not, Kathy. Let's stay here and have a little fun. Believe me, it'll be worth it. I'll make sure of that."

"Come on, Romeo. Let's go home."

Scarlett gripped her tighter. He had yet to let go of her arm. "Don't treat me like I'm some little kid."

"Then quit acting like one. And let go of me."

Scarlett dropped his arm as anger came into his eyes. "Aren't we the cold one? Tell me, woman, just what does a guy have to do to get somewhere with you?"

"Shut it down, Rick. I've had a good time. Let's not spoil it."

"Answer me! What's the matter? Don't you like men?"

"Rick," she said slowly, beginning to clench her teeth. "I work with you and you're a part of the job. I like you as a partner, but we can't be anything else. Can't you see that?"

"Don't be absurd. What does that matter? I won't tell anyone else."

"That's not the point."

"The point is, Kathy, that I am crazy about you. I have been ever since I first saw you standing at that bulletin board checking the assignments. You dominate my thoughts."

"I said shut it down, Rick. I want to catch that plane. Are you coming or not?"

"You listen to me!" Scarlett almost shouted. "Don't you turn your back on me. I won't have it! For two months now I've kept my feelings to myself. Business is business and I'm a professional too. Fine. Okay. But now the case is over. The Squad is disbanded. We'll be reposted and that's the end of that. But that doesn't alter the way I feel. Nothing can change that. I want you, Kathy! You drive me out of my mind!"

"I'm leaving, Rick," she said. And Spann turned to go.

"Fuck you!" the man yelled. "Don't hold your cunt so tight!" And with that he reached out with his good arm — the one without the stitches — and grabbed her breast.

Katherine Spann seized his hand, pried her body free of his grip and pushed him away. "Do that again and I'll slug you," she said. Her right hand balled in a fist. "Now leave me alone. I don't fuck cops. That's incest, you ass!"

Rick Scarlett's face grew livid with drunken rage.

"You bitch!" he shouted. "You tight-ass bitch! It's all a game to you, isn't it? All a fuckin' game! You dress up in the uniform and hold your back erect, masking it as protocol while you show off your tits! And look at you tonight! You hypocrite! Cut it any lower and that dress would show your snatch!"

"You child," Spann said, and she turned on her heels and left him ranting in the night.

She took the steps three at a time to gain the road below. As luck would have it there was a cab waiting at the bottom. Twenty minutes later she was at the Sea-Tac Airport with very few minutes to spare. She was the last passenger to board the final flight to Vancouver that night.

It was only as the DC-9 gained altitude and the water dropped away that she finally began to relax and let the tension unwind.

Oh hell, Spann thought, closing her eyes. Why is it that just when things begin to go right, someone has to spoil it? Now she'd have to watch Scarlett.

Vancouver, British Columbia.

October

Rain. Rain. Rain.

Pain. Pain. Pain.

It feels like a ghost

Come back

To haunt me once again.

Slow days. No gain.

I don't think I'm up to this!

I spent the night in her old chair sitting next to a shuttered window.

Now that my mother's in the ground I really must sell her house. Outside, an October wind in barren trees moaned so mournfully.

I just sat there most of the night, staring at the pictures.

While the pictures lay on her tabletop.

Staring back at me.

OBSESSIONS — It is not uncommon for neurotics to develop a special concern about some danger or problem. If these exaggerated concerns become very intense they are called obsessions. For example it may be necessary for a person to climb out of bed countless times a night to check the gas valves on the stove. Or like Howard Hughes, someone may be so concerned about the slightest contact with dirt that he is compelled to wash his hands constantly or to become a recluse. Neurotic obsessions are thought to conceal some wish that is often either of a destructive or sexual nature. This wish is usually quite obscure in most obsessions and hidden in symbolic distortion.

What do I know about death? Well, let me see.

I know that the true way of defining the end of life is "as a state where time no longer exists." Time needs activity by which to measure it, so without activity there can be no time.

I know that the human obsession with death is called thanatophilia. And I know that a person who fears death in an abnormal sense is termed a thanatophobe. If the shoe fits wear it.

Father. Brother. Mother. Son.

Starting over: how many times? Is not will the very core of character? Is the rudder of the ego not a person's will? All the past and all the future, Do they not determine the now?

The course of Life surely depends upon the deftness of the helmsman. So, sail away!

I must remember to pick up my suits from One Hour Martinizing. Also I need more Gillette Atra blades. Is it just my imagination or do they really put the sharp razor blades in the first and last position with duller ones in between?