Posted by
ML Smith on Monday, March 30, 2009 4:10:26 PM
I love them. All of them. The unhappiness I see in their eyes messes me up.
We’re supposed to bring this kid in - his name is Jimmy Williams. He’s 14. His mother is dying - a brain tumor, I think. There is no father. He’s just a “Baby Daddy.” If I bring him in he goes straight to Juvenile Detention. Adolescent hell. A breeding ground for future kingpins and pimps and thugs.
Oh. There are no pimps here. I forgot - they’re all Escort Services.
My partner is having a fit. This happens often. I’ve gotten to the point where I can turn her off - the most effective way is the DVD player. There’s nothing like a change to “Straight On,” by Heart, played very loud. This time it isn’t working. I turn the volume down and sit there, waiting for whatever she has to say. Every so often I have to pretend to listen to her and do it so she’ll think that what she says has any impact on me. That one has been sucking on the tailpipe too. She knows that I don’t give a damn about anything she says. It doesn’t faze her in the least.
“We gotta’ pick up that kid today.”
“Yeah - who says?”
“HQ, and it was supposed to happen two weeks ago. What is your excuse now?” I practically have to recite the Gettysburg Address to get her to back off.
“Tomorrow we’ll do it.”
There is no way I’m bringing that kid in.