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Bruno let out a deep, throaty laugh. “Yep, that’s me,” he said, rubbing the crooked bend in his nose. “This guy here did that to me.”
“Bruno-fucking-Romero.” Gator had his hands on his old friend’s shoulders as he laughed.
Memories of school came rushing back to Gator, the taunts, the beatings, and the moment when he had finally fought back and struck Bruno in the face.
“And you’re Gator now?” Bruno said. “That name’s fitting.” He turned to Baptiste and said, “He saved my life.”
Bruno had come looking for vengeance with his group of schoolboy thugs on the banks of the Mississippi, seeking revenge for the humiliation Gator had caused.
They were readying to give Gator a beating, and yet, despite everything, Gator had saved Bruno's life that day.
When a gator had come up out of the water going for Bruno’s leg, his gang of “friends” took off running, while Gator rushed to his aid, dragging Bruno away from the jaws of death just in time.
Gator couldn't help but smile at the absurdity of the situation. The same Bruno who had once tormented him was a friend of Baptiste’s and Gator had never known.
* * *
“So,they let more than cops and bikers into this place,” Gator said.
Bruno shook his head. “Only cops and a couple of bikers, as far as I can tell.”
“Only cops?” Gator said. Bruno nodded. “Wait, you’re a cop?”
Bruno nodded again, trying hard to stifle a laugh.
Gator shook his head in disbelief. “Bruno Romero, a cop. Who would have guessed?”
“Certainly not me, way back then,” Bruno replied. “I always thought I’d be a big-time gangster, with plenty of money and women chasing after me.”
“What changed?” Gator asked.
“Well, for starters, this nose,” Bruno said, and Gator winced in sympathy. “I figured I wouldn’t be as attractive to the ladies with this mess of a face. And then, of course, there was the day you saved my life. You were the only person who ever gave a damn about me back then. My old man would’ve been happy to see me chomped by that gator. And my so-called friends…well, you saw who I was hanging out with. They didn’t care about me; they just wanted a bully to protect them.”
“Well…I’m glad something good came of all of it. And…” He turned to Baptiste. “We became best friends for a while after that, until I left St. Charles.” Turning back to Bruno he asked, “How long have you been in Jefferson?”
“A few months now.”
“Wow…and you two are friends and yet we’ve never crossed.”
“Wrong sides of the law,” Bruno said with a serious look on his face.
When Gator kept looking at him trying to make out whether he was joking or not, Bruno began to laugh, then pulled up a chair, sitting across from Baptiste and picking up the last Boudin ball before popping it into his mouth. “Where’s my drink?” he asked the big biker.
Baptiste held up his hand and Elodie trotted over to take his order. She looked at Gator and he shook his head, declining the offer of a drink. He didn’t want to end up the way Baptiste was…barely able to sit up straight on his chair.
* * *
As Elodie broughtBruno his drink, Gator couldn't help but feel a sense of nostalgia wash over him. It was strange to be sitting here with his old school bully/friend, now a cop, and his best friend Baptiste.Baptiste really does have a life I know nothing about.
“So, what’s exciting in Jefferson that I don’t know about?” Gator asked Bruno.
“I’m working on a case,” Bruno said, taking a sip of his drink. “Some criminal activity down by the river. The chief assigned me to investigate.”
“Criminal activity?” Gator asked, his interest piqued. “What kind of activity?”
Bruno shook his head. “I can’t say too much, but let’s just say they're not the kind of people you want to mess with.”
* * *
