Jackson sat back in his chair. “Could be. It’s a thread, a thin one perhaps, but something that might be worth pulling.”
Food arrived then, and he dived into his burger as if he hadn’t eaten all day. Which maybe he hadn’t. Was anyone looking after him? He had sauce on his tie; he was exhausted. Maybe he needed someone to get him to stop with the self-destruction and get a life.
Says the man who fights grief and spends all his free time working out so he can play a game he’s falling out of love with.
“Oodurger,” he mumbled around a mouth of food, and I translated it as "good burger".
“I’ve never eaten here before.” I thought I’d go with some conversation, but he never got to answer, or expand on what a cool place it was, or why he knew the menu so well. A car parked with a press of the horn, at the same time as Jackson’s phone vibrated and moved on the slippery tablecloth.
“Let’s go!” someone called from the car—the same cop from yesterday, the younger one, Mack.
After muttering “shit,” Jackson quickly gathered what was left of his burger, grabbed a handful of fries, then stared at the table.
“I’ve got this,” I said.
“I’ll call you,” he said, then left with a “sorry” and a “later.” The car vanished, and the entire restaurant went from staring at him to chatting again.
I finished my lunch, paid the check, and headed home. I’d done my bit—told the cop what I thought. Not much else I could do now.
I hoped he got to finish his burger.
ChapterSix
Jackson
“Not to sound like my wife…”I threw a look at my partner as we crawled our way towards the hospital, my mouth so full of fries I probably appeared like an unkempt Rescue Ranger. “But if you chewed your food, you’d get more satisfaction from it. Also, and this is proven…” He stopped at a red light next to a beater Ford packed full of kids listening to Bad Bunny. The thumping beat made my fillings throb, which did not go well with the lingering headache I was enjoying. “Chewing one hundred times helps you feel more full.”
The teens flipped me off. I returned the gesture. Today was not the day, kids. They sped off as my partner droned on about exercising your choppers.
“Ever since you got married, I don’t recognize you,” I said around the last bite of my burger. Mack glanced my way in shock. “No, hear me out.” I burped into my hand. “Oof, onions. Okay, so before you tied the knot, we’d talk about good stuff. Like sex.”
“I am not discussing my sex life with you. Elena wouldn’t like it.”
I pointed a finger coated with mustard at him. “See, that’s what I mean. Now we talk about your piles, or your mother-in-law, or how many times a man should chew his burger. Is that what married life is all about? Hemorrhoids and mastication? Because if it is, I am so glad I’ve never fallen in love.”
I stuck my finger into my mouth to clean off the mustard. Mack made a quick left as he stewed on my words.
“Do you want to talk about sex?” he finally asked as we pulled into the packed parking lot of Holy Trinity Hospital.
“No, not really. You’ll have to go to the upper lot.” I went to wipe my wet finger on my tie, then saw that I had forgotten to dig a cleanish tie out of my desk drawer before leaving to meet with Oliver. “Shit, I wore this tie to lunch. Why didn’t you remind me to change it?”
“What am I? Your wife? Shit, I hate trying to find a place to park here.”
“How dare all these people get sick?” I quipped. Mack shot me a look. “Try the upper lot.”
“Thisisthe upper lot.”
“Try theupperupper lot.”
“Maybe I should just slap the flasher on top of the roof.”
“Nah, don’t do that. Last time someone used their red and blues to get through the line entering a Lakers game, Cap gave them desk duty for a year.”
“Oh yeah, Kendall. I remember him. He transferred out to La Jolla. Nice house. The wife and kids love it out there.”
My sight flew from my dirty tie to my partner. “Don’t you eventhinkabout going suburban on me, Mack. Oh there, on the right of that Pontiac.”
“Got it.” He whipped into the slot, parked, and exited. I took off my tie, then rummaged in Mack’s glove box for another. Elena kept about ten in there, all rolled up neatly as those puff pastry pinwheels she packed for his lunch. Maybe having a significant other wasn’t all bad. Clean ties and baked goods were okay.
