Page 16 of For Life
There was a moment of silence where I had no clue who this Matlock punk was talking about, except to look behind me for the blonde woman. When I looked back and Matlock shifted out of the light, I recognized his silhouette. He was the man who approached and possibly the shooter. My gasp caught his attention.
“Oh, are you anit?” Matlock chuckled at his own joke. “What’s your name, blondie?”
Fuck, I was not telling him I saw a thing. For all I know, if I claimed there was a blonde or they saw the woman on a camera, Matlock might pin the shooting on me. I’d tell Maxx, probably, if he didn’t go along with his partner. But I needed to play the part of traumatized femme to get him to leave.
“I’m Anthony Costa, and I work here.”
“What did you see?” Maxx asked right as Matlock interrupted him.
“You I-talian?”
The way Matlock said Italian, emphasis on theI, was something I’d learned was a way to insult the people. I was Italian ethnically, since my grandparents on both sides emigrated from Calabria, and I grew up speaking the language. Was I also blond-haired and blue-eyed? Yep. I was the only one who took after my mom and her mom, who apparently had a Basque grandparent. The rest of the family was dark and more obviously Mediterranean. White people didn’t really get to claim racism, and I never had, but I could tell Matlock had a bias.
“I’m Italian-American, yeah, but I didn’t see anything.”
“Nothing at all? Because I heard on the radio–”
“I called 911,” I interrupted Maxx, “but I was reporting gunshots. And then the sirens were there while I was still hiding. That’s all I know.”
We probably didn’t know each other well enough yet for him to read my mind, but I had to hope. Maxx quirked an eyebrow at me and I willed him to understand my reluctance to speak the truth with Matlock present. Whether or not he knew that I was hiding things, he chose not to pry and still let me off the hook.
“Alright. We’ll be in contact with you. For right now you can rest.”
“Seriously?” Matlock snarled and pointed a stubby finger my way, “Just letting this punk off the hook without even interrogating him?”
Matlock’s angry tone and flying spit made me step back and grab Roman's hand, which he graciously accepted with a comforting grip. I stood tall, but couldn’t look at Matlock’s face. Maxx stepped in front of me like the shield on his chest, protective without being asked.
“Theyare a traumatizedwitness, not a suspect,” Maxx said calmly, clearly used to talking down his prick of a partner, “I got their contact information. We can interview them tomorrow. But right now, we need to report to the Captain as the first responding officers on scene.”
Maxx’s partner grumbled, but agreed that they would check in on me in the morning. Matlock said it with such a menacing undertone, I felt like I was in the mob. Shaking my head, I followed Shepherd up the stairs, still holding Roman’s hand. I wished that Maxx could have stayed. But the choice between Matlock staying with him, and no Maxx at all, was easy.
Roman sat down with me on the couch where I was greeted by July in his flannel pajamas. He immediately pulled me to his side, wrapping chubby, freckled arms around me tightly. I worked out and stayed fit, but July’s softer body was much better for hugs. Roman pet my head where it rested on July’s shoulder, and Shepherd busied themself making tea.
The tea sat in my hands untouched until it didn’t feel hot anymore and I finally remembered to drink it. My shock hadn’t worn off, yet my stomach reminded everyone that I'd skipped dinner while working. Shepherd nodded from their perch on the old wooden coffee table, before standing and going to the kitchen.
“I’ll make you some soup.”
My roommates knew something was off with me, but didn’t want to pry. I got it, I sat there, silently, and stared off into space. I wanted to say I wasn’t sick, to the offer of soup, but I logically knew I needed to eat and didn’t have the energy to argue anyway. My exhaustion overtook me and I drifted off for a while until July adjusted his body and I startled awake.
“What’s going on?” I sat up straight, looking everywhere, “Is Matlock here?”
Shepherd narrowed their eyes, sitting at the table again with a bowl and spoon. “It’s almost midnight, but he’s coming in the morning, hon. Are you alright?”
I’d never been allowed to call them by Chef Priest, but in that moment all I saw was what a great Daddy Shepherd was to their boys. I was happy to have them in my life. But I needed more than Shepherd’s Daddy-ing as a roommate. I was in serious trouble.
“No,” I cleared my throat to continue, “I am not alright.”
Chapter eleven
MAXX
ALLIWANTEDWASto go check on Ant. The paperwork and debriefing took longer than I expected. Matlock was cagey about why he took so long to get from his car to the site of the shooting and why his body camera was turned off. He blamed going to the bathroom and some bad Mexican food on his delay. The only Mexican that Matlock ate was Taco Bell, so I wasn’t buying it.
Before I could question my partner, I needed to check on Ant. If they were upset, I would be happy to take Ant home. I’d even started keeping my extra helmet on my bike in case I wanted to take them out. I’d also be happy to stay over with them, if they asked me to. Whatever Ant needed.
Changing out of my uniform and grabbing my bag of spare clothes, I speed-walked out of the locker room. As I went to cross the hallway to the stairs, I heard Matlock’s voice and ducked back into the darkened corridor.
“I’m just saying, there’s been a lot more gang and mafia activity in that area.”