“You guys are funny,” Teddi said, giving each of us a quick look. “This is fun.”
“I don’t know that I’d describe anything that included him as being fun,” Herb said. “But it’s often entertaining.”
“How about we agree to cuss,” Teddi said, winking at me as she spoke. “We’ll just be ourselves.”
“Sounds good to me,” Herb said. “As long as dipshit agrees to it.”
“I’ll agree if you can keep it civil,” I said.
“Fuck it,” Teddi said with a laugh. “It’s settled. We’re cussing.”
Herb poked a piece of gravy-slathered steak into his mouth and looked at Teddi. “You know, when you jumped dipshit’s ass in that meeting right after he started, I told him he should have told you to go fuck a goat. Now that I’m getting to know you, hell, I like you.”
Teddi smiled. “He was intimidating at first. I overreacted.”
“That’s not what you said, old man.” I gestured to him with the tines of my fork. “But whatever.”
“I thought we were being civil?”
“Civil and honest,” I said.
Herb swallowed his food and took a drink of tea. He looked at Teddi. “I told him you should fuck a goat.” He looked at me. “There, is that better?”
Teddi gasped. “Holy cow.”
“Goddammit, old man,” I seethed.
He gave me a look. “You said to be honest.”
“I meant if you can’t be honest, don’t speak.”
“Well, that’s not what you said,” he huffed.
“It’s fine,” Teddi interjected. “I probably would have skull fucked me too.”
We all had a laugh and continued with our meals. It was a nice change having Teddi at Sunday dinner. Herb saw us as the children he never had the time to father, and we each saw him as the parent we’d lost at an age earlier than we were prepared to let go.
We talked about Jeopardy’s best all-time players, Vanna White’s tits, and the recent resurgence of game shows like Match Game, The $100,000 Pyramid, and Let’s Make a Deal. Convinced that there was a place in my life for Teddi and that she was in it, I picked the steak from between my teeth and listened to her and Herb attempt to solve the world’s problems.
“I think the government needs to get its hands out of everything,” Herb complained. “They overtax us, regulate shit that’s none of their business, and can’t seem to make decisions when it’s high time to do so. Guns, drugs, terrorists, don’t get me—”
Herb flinched at the sound of someone pounding on the door.
“Who in the hell could that be?” he asked.
I didn’t need to ask. The “cop knock” was all too familiar.
Herb rose from his seat and shuffled to the door. Upon opening it, he began his tirade.
“What did I tell you the last time you came banging on my door like that?” Herb asked. “What the fuck are you doing here on the Sabbath? Don’t you rotten pricks ever take a day off?”
“I need to see Mr. Wallace,” my parole officer announced.
Herb leaned to the side, giving a clear view of the dinner table. “There,” he said. “You can see him. Now get the hell out of here.”
I stood. “It’s all right, old man.”
“Who is it?” Teddi whispered.
“My parole officer.”
“Oh.” A worried look washed over her. “Is everything okay?”
“Just a routine call.”
“On Sunday?”
“On whatever day they choose, really.”
I turned toward the door. “Afternoon, Mr. Jacobs.”
He raised a plastic cup. “Can I get a sample?”
“I’ll give you a goddamned sample,” Herb said. “I’ll drop a nice turd in there for you.”
“Leave it alone, old man,” I said.
“Fuck this asshole,” Herb snarled. “I told him the last time he came barging in here to call first.”
“That’s not how we operate,” Jacobs said. “They’re surprise visits for a reason.”
“Give me your address,” Herb said. “I’ll pay you a surprise visit while you’re enjoying dinner. We’ll see how cordial you are.” He gave him a once-over. “I bet you’re a real fucking treat when you’re irritated, huh?”
I nudged Herb away from the doorway. “Come on in.”
“Still employed?” he asked.
“Since the report I sent you last week?” I asked with a laugh. “Yes, I am.”
“Had any contact with law enforcement?”
“Other than you, no.”
“Used any illicit drugs?”
“Sure haven’t.”
He handed me the cup, which was sealed in a protective plastic bag. “You know the drill.”
“Follow me,” I said.
He followed me into the bathroom and stood at my side as I gathered the courage to piss in his presence. Federal officers were required to witness the piss leave the tip of your dick and enter the cup without being tampered with.
After I trickled enough urine into the cup for him to test it, I held it at my side. “There you go.”
He stretched rubber gloves over his hands and inserted the test strip, waited a moment, and then looked at it. He sealed the strip in a plastic baggie. “You can dump that.”
I dumped the cup out in the toilet and then tossed it in the trash.
“You know I don’t like this any more than you do,” he said.
“No word on my motions?” I asked.
“You’ll know at the same time I know,” he said. “If not sooner.”
“They ask for your recommendation, don’t they?”
“I’m not at liberty to say.”
It was the standard response from a federal officer when they didn’t want to give an answer to a question. I’d spent the last eight and a half years hearing it every time I asked a question, no matter how simple it was.
“I guess I keep applying until they say something one way or another,” I said.
“That’s my unofficial recommendation.” He peeled off his rubber gloves and tossed them in the trash. “What are your plans if they agree to an early release?”
I knew exactly what I was going to do upon my release. I intended to ride across Alligator Alley and return to the club I was forced to abandon. It was none of his business, though.
I zipped my pants and reached for the door. “I’m not at liberty to say.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Teddi
Devin stepped into my office. “Everything all right?”
“Absolutely,” I said. “Shut the door, if you don’t mind.”
He closed the door and approached my desk, stopping ten feet from the far side. “What’s up?”
I gestured to the chair beside him. “Sit down. Please.”
“You sure everything’s okay?” he asked. “You look like something’s going on in your head.”