Page 17 of The Attercop

“Let’s go slay the dragon,” Charlie said, walking up to Declan and holding out his arm.

Declan’s feelings shifted and his stomach roiled as if it was filled with panicked butterflies. He was glad he wasn’t going by himself today. Sam’s invitation to the party didn’t undo the years of unease between them after the death of Declan’s mother. Sam had found raising a son alone hard enough, but Declan’s sexual preferences had increased the distance between the two. Since Gwen had come along, things had been better but…that uneasy feeling again.

Charlie tugged on his arm. “Come on. We can do this.” Declan and Charlie made their way to the ground floor entrance and onto the street.

A hand-printed sign on the door of Gwen’s café said ‘Closed Today’. A man leaned against the shop’s window peering in. He was dressed in a rumpled, grubby trench coat. His hair was long and matted and his hands were dirty. He looked like it had been some time since he’d bathed. Declan knew that if Gwen had been in, she would have offered him a free cup of coffee and a sandwich. He pulled out his wallet and gave the homeless guy a twenty-dollar bill.

“Hey, buddy. This should get you something to eat.”

The man took the money, softly said, “Thank you,” and made his way down the street.

As they walked toward the car, Charlie smiled at Declan. “That was nice, what you did back there. Thanks for being kind.”

Declan bumped Charlie’s shoulder with his, and took his hand. “Must be that you’re starting to rub off on me.”

They got into the car and Declan drove twenty minutes before pulling onto 9th Avenue, parking just down the street from The Precinct pub.

“Ready to go?” Charlie asked.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Declan had only been to The Precinct a few times. It was known as the go-to bar for anything ‘police’, from promotion celebrations to wakes. His old partner Gary Sawchuck had introduced him to it after their first shift together. Declan hadn’t been there since he’d left the force all those years ago, and now he was walking back into the lions’ den.

The bar was dark, even though it was daytime. Most of the light came through the grimy street-facing windows. The walls were stained yellow with tar from tobacco smoke that had wafted through the air decades ago when smoking inside was still legal. It was obvious it had been a long time since the bar owners had painted or washed the walls.

Declan’s eyes scanned the main room. Not much had changed since his last visit. A few more pictures had been added to the wall of honour. He remembered when he’d first been shown the wall—and it had been Gary who had shown him, not his dad—Gary had stood him in front of the wall of photos of the officers who had died in the line of duty. He’d made Declan look at each and every one of them, speaking each name out loud. It had become a tradition to do this with new recruits. At the time, Declan had felt it was an honour to speak those names. He’d always wondered if his dad’s picture would be added to the wall someday.

Declan’s thoughts were interrupted by a roar of laughter from the back room. Declan put his hand on Charlie’s shoulder, took a deep breath, and led him into the party room of The Precinct.

A series of tables covered in white tablecloths had been lined up down the centre of the long room. Down the table werepitchers of beer and a few bottles of wine. Almost every chair was occupied, many by guys Declan remembered from the bad old days. Some were the guys who had cheered when Declan had been kicked off the force. But today wasn’t about that. Today was about his dad.

Sam sat at the head of the table. Gwen sat at his side. Both were beaming. On the wall behind them was a sign—Run while you still can!

Declan manoeuvred Charlie and himself to a small shelf that ran around the wall of the room. He picked up a couple of clean glasses and filled them from one of the communal pitchers of beer, handing one to Charlie.

Charlie raised his glass. “To Sam.”

“To Sam,” Declan replied.

“I’m glad you made it,” a voice said. Sam walked up and extended his hand to Declan.

Declan looked at it for a moment before he took it. “I’m gladyoumade it,” he said, pointing to the sign on the wall.

“Congratulations, Sergeant Hunt,” Charlie said.

“It’ll be ‘Sam’ from now on.”

“Sam it is.”

“Can I get you a refill?” Declan asked his dad.

“Sure. I’ll take one of the zero-alcohol beers they’ve got at the bar. It’s not bad. You should try it. Keeps the fat off the gut,” he said, patting Declan’s stomach. “But I doubt you’ll ever have to worry about that. He takes after his mother,” Sam said to Charlie.

Sam headed back to the main table.

Declan caught Gwen’s attention. She smiled. He could see her mouth the words ‘Thank you.’ He smiled back at her and nodded.

Declan remained on the periphery for the next hour. Charlie seemed at home taking a seat beside Sam, the two laughingabout something, looking like a couple of teenagers who’d gotten up to no good. Here was a guy that he was sure would have crumbled at the sight of a man like his father, but he hadn’t—ever. Even after hearing about the way Sam had treated Declan in his early years, Charlie had been able to look beyond Sam’s frightening façade and see the humanity that lay beneath the gruff exterior.