Tommy Sallow is onto better and brighter things. After working a small hometown beat in upstate New York, he's finally in sunny California. As expected, it's the same shit in a different town. Except, you know, now he's near the ocean and miserable...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"I've got sunshiiii-iiine. On a cloudy day!"
Great.
"When it's cold outside... I've got the month of May."
Make it stop.
"I guess... you'd say! Sing it, Tommy!"
No.
"What can make me feel this way?"
I have no idea.
"My gii-iirl. Talkin' bout my girl... MY GIRL."
The obnoxious singing fades as Fitz collapses on the bench, a grin spreading across his face despite the fact that when I say bench, I'm not talking about the one on Main Street in front of his favorite flower shop.
Nope. Dude is in the holding cell at the station, sobering up while I try to finish the report.
Name? Nelson Fitzgerald.
Reason for bringing him in? Let's see...
Public intoxication and crimes against my fucking eardrums.
The day started out so well. Shit, this whole week has been a pleasant ride. I say that a lot these days though. Because when your week begins with a walk on the beach alongside a beautiful woman, who could ever complain?
Dinner at Trevor's was a near disaster with Brit spilling some unnecessary shit that was none of her business to reveal. But if the rest of the night and Sunday's walk the next day was any indication of damage done, I can say with some certainty that Brit's big mouth didn't get the best of that dinner party exchange.
It was almost like nothing had happened when Amber and I met on the sand. We picked up right where we left off and it was great.
As nice as it felt, though, I sort of wish more had happened, to be honest. I have no idea how to process and proceed with what's going on between us. Or not going on between us? Fuck, I don't even know if there's anything going on between us. All I know is that I want her and I don't know what the fuck I'm doing.
I'm not used to this level of uncertainty. In my life and in my job, things are mostly pretty cut and dry. You like a girl? Ask her out. You want to get laid? Go get fucking laid. Don't want to work in your shitty old hometown anymore? Find somewhere on the map you'd rather be and move your ass.
Step forward. Proceed.
Even on a more serious scale, like helping raise my sisters when things went to shit at home. When Dad was off doing God knows what and Mom was in too much pain to get out of bed some days. Or later, when Dad's crimes against our family trickled into those against society as well. It was no different. His actions led to one logical solution, being locked up. And that's exactly what happened.
