House of Blues

somebody and then you
almost faint. First day with a new sergeant. Terrific impression
you're making.
    Later, when she talked about it, she couldn't believe
those thoughts had gone through her mind.
    When she could stand again, and once again began to
act like a cop, she worked mechanically, now thinking only one
thought: It happened so fast. How could it do that?
    She knew that her life was forever changed.
    As the shock began to wear off, and the children to
cry, she and Abasolo let them go to the women, but Abasolo kept his
gun trained on them until the district cars began to arrive.
    First on the scene was a grinning man with a bag full
of ice cream. Uncle Eric, for whom Shavonne had mistaken Skip.
    Abasolo took Skip outside. "You all right?"
    She shrugged. "Sure."
    Happens every day. I shoot somebody's daddy and
then watch her crawl across the floor.
    "You know what color you are?"
    It felt like an attack, like he was telling her she
hadn't measured up, she wasn't good enough, she'd almost fainted and
couldn't be trusted. "Leave me alone, goddammit!"
    She turned away, but he grabbed her arm.
    "I'm up on my colors these days. You're Navajo
white."
    "I'm fine. Could we get back to work, please?
It's not like there's nothing to do in there."
    " Hey. You're the cop who got the guy who killed
Jim. You're a hero. Don't you think you get a five-minute break?"
    "Oh, bullshit. You don't even know what
happened."
    "I hear two shots, I spin around, you've got
glass in your hair, and the other guy's lying on the floor with a gun
in his hand. The story kind of tells itself."
    " I've got glass in my hair?"
    " Uh-huh, but let's don't take it out yet. I want
a lot of witnesses to this."
    " That's where I saw him—in the glass. He was
already pointing the gun."
    "Shit."
    "So I ducked. What would you do?" She
started to laugh.
    "Probably freeze and get shot." He laughed
as well, a little uneasily, as if he didn't know where Skip's
laughter was going. He put a hand on her shoulder, to steady her, she
thought, and she found that she was profoundly grateful.
    She had been numb before; dazed. But when Abasolo
mentioned the glass in her hair, and witnesses, she had felt the leap
in her chest that meant fear.
    " Nobody saw what happened," she said. "But
they could say they did. They could say anything they want."
    Awkwardly, Abasolo stroked her arm. "You forget
I was there. Two other cops were there. It'll be okay. Believe me.
It's going to be okay."
    That's what you told those women when their husband
and son and son-in-law and brother was lying there dead. That's what
Shavonne's mama said. She turned in her gun for evidence, then went
back to headquarters and gave her statements to someone from Internal
Affairs, someone from OMI—the Office of Municipal Investigation—and
Cappello, who'd been called back to take it. It was hours before they
let her go.
    But she found that Abasolo had waited for her, to
drive her home. She was annoyed. "I'm okay to drive."
    "Take it easy, will you? I want to talk to you."
    "What about?"
    "Come on. Let's get in the car."
    "This is ridiculous. I brought my car, which
means I really have to drop you off."
    " Oh, quit bitching. I'll take you home and get a
taxi from the Quarter. Okay?"
    She didn't speak again, until they got to her car,
ashamed of herself for snapping at him, not sure why she had.
    When she spoke, it was only more of the same. "I
can drive."
    "You're nuts, you know that? This is an honor
for me. To be able to drive the hero of the day."
    "Quit trying to flatter me."
    They were alone in the dark now, the two of them
sitting side by side. He didn't start the car, didn't even put the
key in the ignition.
    He said, "Look, I feel bad about this."
    She felt the fear—leap again. "About what?
What's going to happen to me?"
    He touched her arm, and once again she found it
reassuring.
    "Will you stop it? Everything's going to be
okay. I meant I feel for you; I feel bad because you feel bad."
    That got to her. She felt blood suffuse her face,
felt her cheeks heat up and the muscles move into a smile of sorts.
    "That's the sweetest thing a cop's ever said to
me."
    "I've been through it before."
    "You shot somebody?"
    "My partner did. It was like tonight—God, this
was deja vu . We were
at somebody's house and there were a bunch of screaming kids. We
couldn't hear anything, so he went into another room to question the
suspect. The next thing I knew I heard shots."
    He hesitated.
    "I was