"A FEW MORE"
The question tumbled out of my mouth.
“Did you just say, Koslowski?”
“You know him,” Super Citizen flatly said, glaring at me.
“Yeah, worked with him when I was on the force. Mother fucker’s been hounding me all week. I should have known he was up to something.” I confessed before spitting out a crass, “Fuck!”
I could tell a few of them were put off by my loud swearing. I don’t spend much time with groups of people in public and just got used to saying whatever thought came to my head. I guess that’s one of the things Sandy’s talking about when she says I need to get my head on straight.
But still. FUCK!
I don’t know why I even bother to get upset at myself, it’s all so fucking pointless. I knew Koslowski was a bad cop, but I guess I just didn’t believe (or perhaps didn’t WANT to believe) that he was actually mixed up in drug dealing. My head was hurting and I really needed a drink. Tension was high and I was fucking tired. These last few days have been the most stressful days of my recent life. They’ve also been the most sober, which comes as no surprise. I’m pretty sure stress and sobriety go hand in hand.
Thinking about how tired and sober I had become really began to piss me off. It was unfortunate then that there was a payphone downstairs in the bar.
“I’ll call Detective Ross,” I said, “he’s the guy you’re going to want to talk to.”
There was some arguing back and forth as I left the room, but I wasn’t really listening to any of it. I just wanted to make the call and get the hell out of there. I didn’t care what happened to anyone at that point. By the time I had got to the elevator, Sandy had come running out of the room.
“Frank, what’s wrong?” She asked, stepping into the elevator.
“Nothing,” I mumbled, “Once Ross gets over here I can finally go home and get some sleep.”
“What about everything that’s happened? What about that guy you shot?”
I continued to mumble. “Self defense. Whatever. I don’t care. I just want some fucking sleep.”
“Frank!” she shouted, successfully snapping me to attention, “if what you said up there is true, the Koslowski is looking for you. He knows something. You are in danger.”
“Probably.”
“Goddamnit FRANK!” she shouted just before the elevator doors clicked open.
Without hesitation I walked out of the elevator, pacing my way toward the phone. That must have pissed her off (I suspected it would) because she did not follow me out. Rather, she let the doors close behind me. Presumable she went back upstairs.
As I made my way to the phone, I felt the familiar approach of two lifelong acquaintances of mine: Self Loathing and Depression. I was going to call Ross, but not until after I’d gotten a few drinks in me. It’s the only way I can really have a conversation with someone anymore.
After a few whiskeys (I don’t remember exactly how many) I made the promised call to Ross. He did not answer. I left him a message, or sorts, apologizing for not waiting for him earlier, and telling him that I had some important information I needed to get to him right away. I would have told him to meet me at the hotel, but I couldn’t remember which one I was at. So I just hung up and had a few more whiskeys.
I downed the drinks pretty fast, I’m not one to waste time letting the alcohol settle, and waited for Sandy to come get me. I knew before long she would get worried and come yell at me for drinking, but I didn’t care. I didn’t care about anything at this point. Jennifer was back with her friends, and as far as I was concerned, she was no longer my problem. The mystery had been solved; whatever mystery it was, I don’t think I was ever sure myself. My god I was stupid. I’d been running around the last two days trying to find the answer to a question I didn’t even know. And the answer was staring right in my fucking face the whole time. I should have just stayed in my car that night. I never should have gotten involved.
Just as I was in the throws of my own form of self flagellation, I finally heard a familiar voice behind me, saying very familiar words.
“Jesus Christ, I knew I’d find you in the bar.
But it wasn’t Sandy, like I was expecting.
It was Koslowski.
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